Exhausted
by KKray
Summary: A stressful case will stretch the team to the limit. When Charlie's keeping secrets, a new agent joins the team, and the case takes an unusual turn, what will happen to them? Will they come out stronger? Or will they be torn apart?
1. Chapter 1

Charlie stood in his office. Nothing to write home about, if you could find a clear space to write home _on_. His desk was a mess; pencils, chalk, erasers, and markers were littered all over it. Files and papers slipped onto every available space left.

Charlie was scribbling furiously on his black board. Don, his brother, had just dropped off another case. Bank robbers. They had been escaping with hundreds of thousands of dollars. They had hit seven banks in seven days. Then they had stopped. Don had requested Charlie's help with the first one, and the case had built on from there. Flattered, Charlie immediately immersed himself in it.

He had welcomed the distraction. Finals were coming up, and he had several classes to grade. On top of that, he had a speech to prepare _and_ he had promised to help Larry with his. Of course, the distraction was just procrastination. He really needed to focus. Can't let those pesky hunger pangs get in the way.

He wasn't consciously choosing not to eat, it's just that he would get caught up in a major train of thought and the idea of eating wouldn't have even crossed his mind. Same goes for sleep.

 _Hmm..._ Charlie took a step back from his whiteboards. The complicated equations weren't fitting in correctly. Was there something he missed? He just stood there, staring. And staring. And staring.

His head snapped up. _Dang,_ he thought. _Of course!_ He immediately bolted over to his sleek laptop. Plugging in his new theory, his eyes went wide at the new suspects it supplied. _Don needs to see this._ He slapped some files together and shoved them into his bag. His eyes lingered briefly, longingly, at the plush couch in his office. His body ached.

How many people would lose their life savings if he took a nap instead of find the culprits? He just needs to get these to Don and then he can take a rest. With a new resolve, he locked his office and headed for his bike.

 _Dang!_ He had forgotten his laptop in his office. _It's so far!_ Those people… _I'm so tired!_ Those poor people… Heaving a sigh, Charlie spun around and noiselessly retraced his steps, his feet dragging along the stone corridor. The beautiful campus, which normally inspired and refreshed him, just served to further drain his limited energy.

Charlie retrieved his laptop and headed towards his bike. The way back was bad. He could barely stand up, let alone ride his bike. _Don needs those equations. If I give them to him, I can sleep._ Who was he kidding? He couldn't sleep after that! He needed to grade finals and write some of them too. Only a couple of days until spring break.

Fourteen days of relaxation. _No, fourteen days of preparing classes, more tests, and putting in full days at Don's office._ Sometimes it felt like Don forgot that he _had_ a life outside of the FBI. Charlie had the Cognitive Emergence Theory, as well as many other consulting jobs for other agencies. Why didn't Don remember that?

Charlie unlocked his chain and started the long bike ride down to his brother's office. The cars zoomed past him as he concentrated on one foot pushing, then the other. When he had reached the FBI headquarters, Charlie paused to lock his bike out front, cursing his lack of a licence. It would be so much easier for him if he had a car. But, with the way his childhood had been denied in favor of his studies, there just wasn't enough time for him to pursue a licence.

Now he was in line for the metal detector. It was the rules. _Why did the rules have to be so time consuming?_ Charlie thought as he pulled the strap of his bag over his head. He made his way to the elevators, pushing the seventh floor button. He blinked. His eyes were really itchy. Why? His bag was also really heavy. What had he packed in it? The doors binged open and Charlie walked into the bullpen.

He didn't see anybody, but that didn't bother him. They were either out getting lunch, interviewing a suspect, or meeting with Don. Looking around more closely, he could see that Megan and Colby were standing in the War room with Don. He noticed that David wasn't there. _Where's David?_. Charlie sighed and shrugged. He didn't need David for him to give the equations to Don. He could present his equations with three of Don's team.

Stifling a yawn, he started to trudge towards Don. _Why is it so difficult to keep my eyes open_? He rounded Don's desk and ran into David. "Hey Charlie!" Thankfully he wasn't carrying anything, so nothing was dropped.

"Hey David," he replied tiredly. David was shifting his weight uneasily, looking at the War room. More specifically, Don.

"Uh, Charlie," he said softly. "We're in a meeting right now. If you wait fifteen, twenty minutes we'll be out." His brown eyes were distracted. His gentle voice held a sharp edge. Charlie was just experienced enough in human behavior to realize that the edge wasn't directed at him, but at whatever was waiting in the War room with Don, Megan, and Colby. Charlie nodded his understanding.

David looked at him, taking in the folder Charlie was holding. "If that's for Don, I can take it to him for you, Charlie."

Charlie nodded his thanks. Now he could get straight back to CalSci and work on the speeches.

* * *

 **So, I'm testing this out. If you guys want me to continue, I will. If not, I'll take a hint. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**I figured I should explain a couple of things. This is set in season 2, before Charlie got his car. Amita and Charlie are not a couple for this, and Charlie's hair is how it is in season 3. Plot wise, however, is current with season 2. I'm sorry with the delay in posting. School, and just life in general, has gotten hectic.**

* * *

Don looked down at the papers clutched in his hand. They were becoming increasingly wrinkled the more he looked at them, his hand slowly tightening on them in frustration. That surely didn't have anything to do with the fact that they were nowhere near solving this case. Of course not. Megan's heavy sigh drew his attention back to her.

"There's nothing!" With an indignant flip of her hand, she tossed her papers on the table. "I found nothing." Her voice was strained an her sharp green eyes were troubled. She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to get ride of the nervous energy.

Colby shot back immediately, "Who didn't?" When the only response was a hard stare directed at him, Colby sighed. They were all running on fumes and short tempers abounded. None of them had gotten any sleep last night, preferring to attempt to find something that would help catch the bastards that were wrecking peoples' lives for nothing more than greed. And that ticked Colby off. Majorly. Who knew what those people needed their own personal money for? A surgery? An adoption? A new house?

David chose that moment to enter the room. Decorating the walls were pictures of the vaults, the i.p. addresses, and the victims. The robbers had two different strategies: either they went in gun blazing in a classic bank hold up, or they hacked the banks' computers and transferred the sums to an off shore account. Other than that, there was nothing. No clues to where they might have gone or where they would strike next. Three pairs of eyes snapped onto David, analyzing his face to see if he had found anything.

The dejected slump in his shoulders was testimony enough. He shook his head grimly. That extinguished the small amount of hope that they had unwittingly allowed to flourish upon his arrival.

Don felt his anger growing in him. Slapping his hand on his desk, he swore violently. His team looked on understandingly. Everyone was emotional about this case, although they were hiding it better. Don stared at the table, his expression dark and brooding.

The other members of the team shared worried glances. David broke the silence.

"Don." His voice was gentle but insistent.

Don glanced up, raising his eyebrows in an indication to David that he was should go on.

"Charlie's here. He's waiting at your desk." Don immediately tensed. He didn't want to face Charlie and know that there was another dead end. Didn't want to be hopeless any more. But, of course, he couldn't say that, even if his team would understand. That wasn't something a team leader could afford to do. Not a weakness he could show. So instead, he bit the inside of his cheek and just nodded.

"Thanks David." Don wanted to stall. Wanted to hold on to the hope that Charlie had something for them.

They waited for a moment. Don didn't make an effort to move, and neither did the rest of them.

Another moment passed in silence.

"Don?" Megan's hesitant question snapped Don out of his thoughts. He sighed.

"I'll go see if he has anything." No one could miss the resigned tone of his voice. Megan was unsure of what that tone was directed toward. Was it for Charlie? The case in general? Himself? Them?

Megan felt her eyebrows draw together as she watched Don slowly raise himself from the chair and stride out the door, disappearing from view. The profiler in her reared up and tried to analyze her stoic boss. If David and Colby noticed as she tried to pick apart Don, they stayed quiet.

They shared another glance. "He doesn't look right. This case is hitting him hard."

Colby snorted and raised his eyebrows. "Of course it is! It's hitting us all hard." The sad part was that the statement was true.

"Especially Charlie." David's quietly spoken statement brought a grim smile to all of their faces.

"Every case hits Charlie hard." They felt themselves become even more somber as they thought of the brave, sensitive young man who was willing to use his genius to help them out. Charlie was pale and gaunt the last time they had seen him, and lacked the energy he normally possessed. Colby narrowed his eyes. _Once Don's done with the Whiz Kid, I need to make him sleep._ As he pictured just how thin Charlie's face looked, he amended his thought. _And eat._ Charlie has done enough for this office. He didn't need to sacrifice his own needs.

* * *

 **Again, so sorry for the delay. I'm going to try to post in the next few weeks, but exams are right around the corner. That's all for right now!**


	3. Chapter 3

The fog encompassing Charlie's mind was thick. Only muffled sounds filtered through, including a quiet "Charlie?" It sounded like it was underwater, incomprehensible. A hand on his shoulder roused him slightly more. Thoughts flitted across his consciousness, vague and confusing. He tried to think, he really did, but the blanket of sleep was so comfortable.

Sleep. He felt like he's not supposed to be sleeping… Who on earth wouldn't want to be sleeping? This mind-numbing influence was amazing. He had something to do… But what? Don…

And it all came flooding back. The robberies, the frustration, the stress. It was all back. Charlie groaned. Why did it have to be him? Because you're the best. The words practically sneered at him.

"Charlie?" A quiet voice filtered through the chaotic thoughts.

"Hey Don." Charlie sat up, stretching. His head had been lolling on his chest. Not the most comfortable position. Great. Now his neck was going to bother him for the rest of the day. He emitted a soft groan as other aches and pains made themselves known. But they came with the territory of standing in front of chalkboards for hours on end. Thank goodness he didn't have any responsibilities this night. Sleep was definitely top on his agenda.

The FBI office was quiet. Not many people were hustling and bustling around. In fact, it was pretty much empty. Megan, David, and Colby were in the war room, and the few other agents there were the only occupants of the seventh floor. Don coughed quietly and startled Charlie out of his thoughts.

"Hmm?" Don was looking at Charlie expectantly. Apparently he had zoned out. His attention now focused on his brother, he saw Don observing him. Not quite curious, though not quite indifferent. The dark brown eyes traveled over him, taking in the rumpled clothing, the unshaven stubble, and the circles under his eyes.

Charlie felt a little disgruntled. He didn't come here to be examined. Shrugging, Charlie reciprocated the action. If Don got to do it, then he could too. He wasn't an expert on human behavior, far from it, but he didn't need to be to see the fatigue lining Don's face, the small flare of hope in his eyes even as the agent tried to hide it, the exhausted slump in his shoulders. Don obviously hadn't relaxed since the beginning of the case, preferring to work over rest.

Neither brother was pleased with what his inspection had revealed, but both were aware of far more pressing matters that deserved their attentions. That was why the brothers were seeing each other right now, after all.

"I said, you got anything?" Don smirked a little. Leave it to Charlie to come all this way and completely forget what he wanted to say. He nodded towards the satchel laying on the floor.

Charlie bit his lip. He hated to admit any kind of failure, whether or not it was his fault. He huffed. "Yes." As his brother's eyes flashed with soon suppressed emotions, he continued. "I figured out some probabilities for suspects. I'm warning you, though, all of them have very low probabilities."

Don cut him off. "That's great, Charlie. Better than nothing."

"However, there just isn't enough for me to go on to predict their next target. The robbers know what they're doing. Obviously they have a hacker. A good one to boot. They need one in order to be able to pull off quote unquote stunts of this magnitude." Frustration couldn't begin to describe what he felt. The lack of information was just slamming him on all sides. No physical evidence was left, no computer evidence was left, no monetary trail was left. Nothing. There was nothing to go on that was left by the perpetrators. Yeah, he was working on factoring in the banks- everything from location to layout- and the times- dates and time during the day that the robbery took place, but that didn't give him as good of a clue as traces would. From there, he tried to work out several hotspots, but something was going screwy. It was preventing him from finding their pattern. If he couldn't find a pattern soon, who knows how many more people would be affected?

Don sighed softly. Logically, he knew that Charlie was doing his best. Although he couldn't help the small flicker of disappointment. Genius or not, this case was taxing to them all. If Charlie couldn't solve it, how would his team be able to? They'd already had the case for a week and a half and nowhere near an answer. It drove him crazy that he had to wait for someone else to do their work that would allow him to do his work. Don knew it was the same for the rest of his team. They all love Charlie like a little brother, but it rubbed them the wrong way to stay inactive. At least Charlie gave them something. They could work with it.

Charlie heard Don sigh. He felt a small pang of… rejection? Bitterness? Or was he just too tired to feel anything? He echoed the sigh. Sleep was beginning to tug at his eyelids again. Maybe Don can give me a ride home. I don't think I should ride my bike in this condition. He stole a glance at his brother. They both needed to go home.

"Don?" Brown eyes met brown eyes. The man in question raised his eyebrow, indicating for Charlie to go on. "Could you give me a ride home? I don't think I should ride my bike and I need to go home."

Don's eyebrows shot up. Charlie was usually far too stubborn to confess a need for something, especially if it had to do with sleep. How many times had Alan had to bribe and plead with him to get some rest? Too many. Now here he was, willingly asking for his help.

Now that he thought about it, a night that included some of his father's cooking and a long time sleeping sounded appealing.

"Sure, Chuck." He grinned as Charlie mumbled tiredly.

"Don't call me Chuck."

They gathered their things and headed towards Don's SUV, idly talking about what their father was making for dinner. Things would be better tomorrow. Maybe they might even get a lead.

* * *

 **I'm so sorry for the delay in posting. I had such a hard time with this chapter. This will most probably be the "norm" for posting. I want to finish the story, or get multiple chapters written, before I post any more. I don't know exactly how long that will take. Just so you know. I haven't forgotten about this one!**


	4. Chapter 4

The night relaxing at his Dad's worked wonders. _Well_ , Don corrected himself, _at Charlie's_. Strange how he couldn't stop thinking about it as Dad's house. It had been that way for his entire life. His childhood home was now owned by his brother. No big deal. It was still home to all three of them. Don spent so much time there he might as well give up his apartment.

As he walked into the FBI, he saw his team clustered around his desk. David, Colby, and Megan were obviously waiting for him. Megan was the first one to see him. She nudged the other two when she noticed him striding towards them. David and Colby turned to face him fully.

"What's up?" Don tossed out the question. It was unusual for his team to be around his desk. Scratch that, he couldn't think of a time where they waited for him at his desk.

David answered him. "We have a meeting with the director in a half an hour."

Don's eyebrows shot up. "What for?" The case was progressing. They had a few leads to check on. They weren't at a standstill. Why would they need a meeting with the director?

Colby shrugged. "Dunno. Didn't say." The blonde agent was deceptively laid back. One could think that he was dismissive about the whole subject, but the intelligence and awareness brimming in his eyes dispelled the notion immediately.

He cocked his head to the side. "Hey Don. How's the Whiz Kid?" When he had seen him last night, Charlie had looked completely drained.

Don sighed and scratched behind his ear. "Stressed. He kept on telling me that he couldn't find the pattern." He laughed softly as he remembered how tired his little brother had been. "Tired, too. He couldn't stay awake for dinner. He was out before Dad finished the lasagna." The man was gone before Don woke up, so he couldn't've gotten more than six hours' worth of sleep. Still, any sleep can go a long way.

"Your dad made lasagna and you didn't invite us?" David's sarcastically outraged voice brought Don back out of his thoughts. Colby and Megan laughed.

"I'm sure he had his hands full with just his two sons. No need for three more pseudo children to come by too." The affection for the older man was obvious in Megan's words. Smiles tugged at everyone's lips as they thought about it. Alan certainly behaved like a father to them all.

"If it makes you feel any better, he's invited you all tonight. He's going to grill some burgers." Don rolled his eyes. He didn't know why his father bothered to "invite" his team over. There were precious few occasions that they didn't accept.

Sure enough, three variations of "yes" went around the small circle. Silence fell over the group, though not for long.

"Will Amita and Larry be there as well?"

Don thought about it. "I don't know." He frowned. "Charlie hasn't asked their help on this case as far as I know, but I don't see why not. We do talk about things other than cases, right?"

Another small chorus of laughs. "Like math." David said.

"Or astrophysics." Megan chimed in.

"Other than that," Colby trailed off sarcastically, tapping a finger against his chin and pretending to think. "Yeah, I got nothing."

Don nodded. "We somehow make it work." Checking his watch, he saw that fifteen minutes had passed during the friendly bickering.

"Charlie found a few suspects." He passed out folders on each of the four men. It was consistent with the witness accounts. For the three robberies that were committed physically, there was five men for the first one, three for the second, and seven for the third. Because of that, they knew that there was at least eight men in the group- one was needed to run the getaway car.

There were only four suspects in Charlie's list. That was only half of the least amount of criminals involved. Charlie had tried to explain his reasoning. Besides a complex computer algorithm that ran probabilities, he had gone through and taken out any men who was in prison, incapable of this complex of planning, or had a probability of less than 1 percent. _There are a lot of men under 1 percent_ , Charlie had said. _I have a separate list of them for you when you need it._

"David and Colby, you take two. Megan and I'll take the other two." They nodded their agreement, opening the folders.

"Hey, Megan." She looked up.

"Yeah, boss?"

He lowered his voice. "Would you go through and double check Charlie's assessment of these guys? Put them through your profiles and see if they match?"

She frowned a little. "Yeah, sure."

"Charlie has a secondary list for us. Look over them too, okay?"

Megan nodded. "You want me to make sure that these men are capable of it psychologically."

"Yeah." He gave a curt nod, checking checked his watch again. "We don't have time right now to work on anything. We need to head over to Merrick's office." They put down the information for a later time.

And so the four of them set off, strolling at a brisk pace through the other busy agents around.

* * *

 **Another chapter? So soon? It's your Christmas present! I got a major train of thought and I am already working on Chapter 7. You'll get another chapter soon.**

 **Two things. One: Okay, so I don't exactly know everything about Numb3rs. I am using Merrick as the Director of the FBI. I'm not sure if that is correct, but I'm using him. Sorry for any confusion. Two: Please review! I can't tell whether you guys are liking the way my story's going or not.** **Please let me know your thoughts.**


	5. Chapter 5

Charlie sighed. Another long day of lectures and questions. He loved teaching, there's no doubt about it, but lately it was difficult to get super excited about it. He knew that it was the stress of the upcoming weeks affecting his outlook. Mentally he shrugged. _What can you do?_ It wasn't as if he hadn't done this sort of thing before.

 _So what's different about now?_ Charlie wasn't stupid. It was because he didn't have the answers. And that scared him. He poured hours into the problem, and it wasn't cooperating. If Larry was here, he'd make a remark about how the planets and stars were aligned against him. He smirked. Believing in fate and luck wasn't in him. Numbers would disprove the "random" occurrence of those circumstances blamed on fate or luck. Of course there were anomalies, but they were surprisingly few and far between.

The chalkboard in front of him remained stubbornly blank. Not that it was the blackboard's fault. It wasn't as if it were an intelligent and animated object. His dark brown eyes stared intently at the board, searching it for the answers that supposedly lurked there.

A firm knock interrupted his slow train of thought. "Come in!" Charlie called. Was it Larry? Amita? One of Don's agents?

The door opened and revealed a man in a black suit. He was very plain, would blend easily into a crowd. His brown hair was short, his face tanned, and his skin light. The fact was Charlie had never seen him before. Charlie stood to greet him.

"Professor Eppes?" Even his voice was average. His entire being screamed factory production, too normal. That was indicative of something. No one looks that normal and seeks him out without being sent from somewhere important.

"Yes." Affirmative. Nothing more, nothing less. Talking to these types of men was like a dance. You try to draw out information while giving nothing away. Charlie wasn't very skilled at it. He was naturally an open and honest man, and tried to communicate as such.

"I'm from the NSA." A very general statement.

"Can I see some I.D.?" He remembered his consulting days. This was somewhat similar to the tests the higher-ups like to put him through. They wanted to see how secure their consultant was.

Apparently he passed. Nothing changed in the agent's face as he flipped open his I.D. There it was. The security clearance pass and formal I.D. This Evan Bennette was from D.C. _This can't be good._

"What's this about?" Charlie hated the way his voice came out. It was weak and nervous.

"This is about the case that you are currently working with your brother."

That surprised Charlie. "The robberies?" There was nothing that had seemed like national security to him. And believe him, he had a lot of practice. "Why? How?" It was confusing. Maybe one of the people robbed was a higher-up in the food chain. Maybe something important was stolen. Maybe they were trying to figure out some sort of code for the banks. But he would have noticed that. There would have been some indication, not to mention that the banks would be the same branch. Maybe not. In any case, the NSA was here.

"We have a consultant who will be working with you. He is already here in L.A."

"Who?" Curious, because Charlie hadn't known very many other consultants. Certainly none that he would be working with again. After that last time which ended in disaster…

He forcefully pushed those thoughts aside. _No._ He thought. _They wouldn't put me with him. They know what happened._

"You will see." _Thanks, Captain Obvious. And here I was thinking that I was some sort of genius._ "He will be in a meeting with your brother and his team shortly. I'll drive you to the FBI office."

Charlie stayed silent and nodded. Looking around his office, he quickly grabbed what he needed.

The agent was outside, silent and still. The perfect posture of a stereotypical body guard. It just made him more curious. He hadn't been actively searched out for by the NSA in a long time. Years, in fact. What was so bad about this case that he was contacted after all this time?

He puzzled over that during the entire car ride to Don's work. Completely surprised when they pulled up, Charlie quickly strode in through the impressive entrance. It barely registered that Bennette was no longer with him. He rode the elevator up to the seventh floor.

It was much busier than the last time he was there. Agents rushed to and fro, papers were everywhere, and each of the interrogation rooms were full.

Distantly, he remembered that Bennette told him that they were in Merrick's office. He headed that way, passing by Don's empty desk. Well, not completely empty. Papers littered the surface. The list of names Charlie had provided was prominent, making Charlie feel oddly proud. Don was using his math, his _math_. He never would have believed this a few years ago. Oh, he knew that math had hundreds of practical applications, he did work for multiple governmental and private companies. It was just that he never thought Don would use it.

His legs had propelled him past the desk and was most of the way to Merrick's office. All of the blinds had been pulled down and shut. _So, they want it secret, is that it?_ He walked the rest of the way to the glass door, catching a few words murmured too low to distinguish. It didn't stop him from trying to distinguish it anyway.

Charlie hesitantly raised his hand and rapped smartly on the door. It would be rude to barge in. So he waited until he was permitted entrance. The voices immediately stopped. Footsteps were coming closer to him.

The knob turned and the door was flung open. But Charlie didn't move to go inside the room. In fact, he had paled rather drastically.

"Charlie?"

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 **Okay. Not entirely sure about this chapter. I wrote it at midnight. Don't want to keep you guys waiting more than you already are, right? Anyway, let me know what you guys thought. See you next time!**


	6. Chapter 6

"There has been some," Merrick paused, seemingly conflicted on what to say, "difficulties."

Megan raised her eyebrows but held her peace. She would have normally questioned Don, but it wasn't Don speaking right now. It was Director Merrick of the FBI. One of the higher-ups in the chain of command. Also, they were not alone. This meeting they had been called to included someone else. The four FBI agents were joined by another man. When Merrick had opened the door to admit them, they saw that the man was already seated. Tall, handsome, clad in a suit, and obviously intelligent, the man was an unknown. A quick glance at his team proved that none of the others knew him either. _So, what's going on? Another consultant? We have Charlie._

Another glance around at his team confirmed that they were all thinking it. David was frowning, Colby looked slighted, and Megan was looking at him. But before he could communicate with them, Merrick continued.

"It would seem that we have stumbled onto NSA territory."

 _NSA territory? What the-?_ "NSA?" The calmly spoken question appeared just that. Calm. Far more calm than Don was actually feeling. His mind was whirling.

To his surprise, it wasn't the balding director who answered, but the man in the corner.

"Yes. It has recently been brought to our attention that some vital information was stolen in the "Seven-day spree" robberies, as the media so tastelessly calls it. Of course, they are only reporters and photographers; what can one expect?" The man's voice was smooth and deep, seeming far older than he looked. The way he spoke implied that he was comfortable in front of a crowd. Unaware, or perhaps ignoring the scrutiny he was recieving, the man continued. "Anyway. You do prefer answers, do you not?" Silence.

"Of course." He shut his mouth with a huff and rolled his eyes. He clicked the device he held in his hand. Two pictures popped up. One displayed a magnified flash drive, the other a CD. "I hope you understand the reason behind the lack of pictures."

Don nodded curtly. _Did they get stolen? Do they need us to get them back? Do they have them and the disk and flash drive are information on the robbers?_ "I understand. What does this have to do with the case we are currently on?" Polite. Challenging. Talking with people from other agencies was like a dance. Draw out as much of their information as possible without giving any of yours away.

From the tightened lips of the man and the flash of irritation, Megan could tell that Don had touched a nerve. _He likes to be in control._ That went with being a NSA agent. _He doesn't like to be questioned._ Obviously. She shot a glance at Don. He was apparently calm, but to someone who knew him better, the tension in his fingers was a dead giveaway that his mind was racing. Megan looked over to David. The dark man was watching with interest, withholding his judgment. Colby, however, was brimming with impatience and curiosity. She herself was wondering what the man's point was. _What do we have to do with this? This seems like it's far above our security clearance. What the heck is on those devices?_

"The robbers stole these from our accounts in the second robbery committed physically. We need you to get them back." He paused and glared viciously at each of them. " _Without_ compromising their integrity." Authoritative. Ordering. Superior. This man was trying to cow them into submission.

Furrowing his eyebrows, Don glared back at the agent. "And how do you suggest we do that? We've been working on this case for a week and a half and are still a long way away from recovering any merchandise." _There is no way that we are going along with this without receiving anything back_.

"You can use some of our resources." The statement was drawn out through clenched teeth.

Don fought to keep his smirk down. The NSA database was amazing and detailed. Checking up on Charlie's suspects was going to be much easier. Still hard, granted, but easier. At the thought of his brother, he inwardly smiled. _Man, Chuck is going to love this!_ Then he frowned. _Where is Chuck? He's as much a part of this team as any of us. Why isn't he here?_

Knocking prevented Don from asking the man any further questions. The man stood up and crossed the room to open the door. From behind the man, Don could see-

"Charlie?"

* * *

 **Happy New Year! 2016!**

 **Sorry for the short chapter. It was just not coming to me. Listen people! I love posting, but even the best authors get disheartened when nobody says anything. This is for you guys! Help me help you! With that, I would like to thank the people who have commented. Thanks!** **Chapter 8 is complete. See you next time! Oh! Another thing. I changed the rating because there will be a little bit of language in the next chapter. Nothing too bad. There will probably be more language in future chapters. I didn't want to say anything last chapter because I got it to 1,234 words! Who doesn't love a good pattern?Anyway, that's it!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Warning. There's a little bit of language in this chapter. It's rather mild. Nothing really bad.**

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David was stunned. _How did this guy know who Charlie was? Why is Charlie so pale? What is going on?_ Almost none of that crossed his handsome face, though some confusion remained. _How would Charlie know a NSA agent?_ He regarded the shocked look splattered on both Charlie's and the other man's faces. _Apparently neither of them were expecting the other._

The silence in the room was tense and nonplussed. The two reasons were still staring intensely at each other, taking no notice to the agents and the director.

Megan frowned. _Why is Charlie so upset?_ Switching her focus from the dark haired genius to the NSA agent, she examined him. _He seem just as surprised as Charlie. Why was that?_ In fact, there seemed to be another emotion. Was that… shame? Why would he be shameful? And Charlie, she looked closer. He appeared to be… angry? _When had Charlie ever been angry at a person, without any other reason?_ The only times she had seen him angry was when someone was doubting him or his friends. _Then why—Oh._ Of course. _Charlie and the other man knew each other._ Seeing the emotions still splayed across their faces, she amended her thought. _And they don't like the other._

Colby gaped at the two men, fighting down the instinct to protect Charlie. The kid was like a little brother to him. Anyone who messed with Charlie messed with him too. And clearly this man had tangled with his honorary little sibling. Shooting a glance at his other teammates, he could guess what they were thinking. After all, this was Charlie. Charlie, who was the gentlest man he knew. Charlie, who convinced them all of the power of math. Charlie, who looked like he'd seen a ghost.

Surprisingly, it was Charlie who broke the terse silence. "What the hell are you doing here?" The words were sharp and harsh. They sounded completely foreign and wrong coming out of his mouth.

"Same reason as you." The calmly spoken words did little to mollify the obvious tension between them.

"And what would that reason be?" _Charlie can be downright scary_ , Megan thought. She looked at Don. He was just as surprised as the rest of them. _If this is what Charlie is like when he's completely ticked off, then let me never tick him off._ The Charlie Eppes that was in front of them was nothing like the mild-mannered mathematician they knew and loved. This man was full of a cold fury, controlled and very dangerous.

"The NSA."

David started in surprise. _The NSA?_ Charlie nodded slowly. _What?_

Colby narrowed his eyes. _The NSA. How long has this been going on?_

Megan raised her eyebrows. _Huh. The NSA? Did Don know?_ A sideways look confirmed her suspicion. _No, I guess not._ The mathematician was nodding slowly. _How is this going to be with Charlie?_

"Did you know that I would be here?"

The man conceded, "No, Charlie, I didn't. I suspect they left it out on purpose."

A bitter laugh. "They always wanted to leave us hanging." A bitter smile. "Those were the days."

The man seemed to finally realize just where they were. He straightened, pointed out his chin, and walked back to his previous spot. Charlie stared at his back.

Merrick cleared his throat. "Gentlemen, I see that you know each other." A derisive snort from Charlie. "Nevertheless, we need to be getting along with the meeting." He nodded at the man.

"So, before Charlie joined us, I explained what we lost." He gestured to the screen behind him. The disk and flash drive were still amplified and displayed.

"Jayden, do you know what's on them?" Charlie questioned. His eyes were narrowed and assessing the two devices.

The man frowned. "Yes."

Dark eyebrows shot up. "Care to share?"

"I cannot."

"Ah." With that, Charlie fell back into observing them, seemingly oblivious to the questioning looks being directed at him.

Jayden cleared his throat. "As you have probably assumed, there is sensitive information about a secret organization on those. Already I have probably shared more than I should have. But," he glared at each of them. Strangely, he skipped Charlie. "You cannot let any others know what I have told you. It is imperative for the safety of all those involved that this remains covert."

David tried to keep his face impassive. _Why on earth are we getting this assignment if this is as "hush-hush" as he says?_ Jayden, wasn't it? _Is it because we work with Charlie? Or because we have the highest solve rate of the office?_

Megan saw through his defenses anyway. She worked closely with him, and he was mostly easy to read. Not quite as easy as Charlie- _but that's not true, is it?_ She had no idea what caused the hostility towards the NSA agent. _Something bad, that's for sure._ Megan had assumed that Charlie was just an open book; she was wrong.

This case was quickly becoming more serious and grim than it already was. It wasn't like they would have slacked off on the case, but it'd be crazy not to take this case extremely gravely after an announcement like that. Colby couldn't believe what he was hearing. Obviously, this was a first priority. But, it was Charlie. He was a first priority too. _Can there be a spot before the first one? The pre-first priority? Something more important than a first priority?_ He shook his head. That could be figured out later. He needed to be alert to the meeting.

"Is this something I've worked on previously?" Their attentions were drawn back to the source of most of their musings. If it were anybody else, it would be absurd. Who would be arrogant enough to assume that their work was national security? Knowing what they know now, though, not so much.

"No. Not that I know."

"Alright. Are they encrypted? Do you have any idea where they might be going? Can they be sold?"

Jayden raised a hand to stem the barrage of questions. "Charlie. You forget who's here."

Charlie's lips tightened. "No, I haven't. I am not a naïve young man anymore, Phillips. I've grown up." The anger was back full force, bubbling just under the surface.

"I meant no offence."

"Then be cautious with your words."

The warning hung in the air. The agent ran a hand through his hair. "Listen, Charlie, I'm doing my best here, man." A raised eyebrow. "Seriously. Can't we work on this without any distractions?"

"Distractions."

Jayden grimaced. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Of course you didn't." Acidic. Charlie looked like he was fighting down a snarl.

"Damn it! I'm being civil here."

"Yeah? Do you want a congratulations? A medal?" The words were baiting, taunting. The effect was immediate. Jayden's face tightened and reddened in anger.

Megan watched with horrified fascination. _Who could have this effect on Charlie?_ Obviously this Jaden Phillips. _Why?_

Phillips opened his mouth to retort, when again, he noticed his surroundings. He snapped it shut. "Director, I believe that we can conclude this meeting." When he received nodded permission, the agent seized Charlie's arm and dragged him into the first empty room he found, slamming the door behind them. Immediately, raised voices were heard.

"Eppes, do you know what's going on with Charlie?"

Merrick was looking steadily at him. David saw him clench his jaw. "No." His answer was clipped. David could only guess what was going on behind the stony face.

The director nodded. "Well, there's no use sitting here wondering. Eppes, get to work."

"Yes sir."

With that, Merrick dismissed them from his office.

* * *

 **Poor Charlie. The big reveal. Did I nail it? Butcher it? I know that Charlie is probably out of character. However, in my defense, there was never a situation like this in the show, so any reaction is based on author's opinion. Let me know your thoughts. As I explained in Chapter 6, there will most probably be more language in future chapters. Thank you for sticking with me so far. Thanks for all of my reviews! I'll post Chapter 8 when I'm finished with Chapter 10. There will be more language in future chapters, but nothing worse than the ones in this chapter.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Okay. I figured that I might just add this for an overview of the story: There will be more language in following chapters, such as the language in previous chapters. I won't be posting anymore language warnings. Nothing worse than words previously used, though. Consider yourself warned.**

* * *

Don was sitting in his chair, brooding over Charlie, when Megan came over. The first indication she was there was a loud 'slap' as she dropped a few folders onto his desk.

"What was that, Don?" Colby and David appeared, each peering over his shoulder in hopes to catch a glance of their missing mathematician. "Do you have any idea what went on in there?" Colby jumped in before Don had a chance to answer.

"I, for one, thought that Charlie was going to deck the guy. Jayden Phillips, right?"

Don nodded absently as Megan and David murmured their agreement. "Well," he sighed. "I have no clue who that guy was. Is. Who he was when Charlie met him." And it was driving him crazy.

"You can't fake a reaction like that. Whatever went on, it had to be bad." The profiler in Megan spoke up, her analytical mind trying to figure out the likely causes for the reaction. She just couldn't concentrate. _Of course you can't. It's Charlie. None of you can focus._

"No gee, Megan. I thought it was because Charlie loved the guy so much that he swore!" The sarcasm practically dripped from Colby's words.

"The word "hell" doesn't count as a swear word."

"It does if Charlie uses it."

David cleared his throat, effectively breaking up the bickering. His fellow agents looked guiltily at him before turning their attention to their boss, who was watching them with exasperation. Megan bit her lip and Colby looked down at his hands. "Sorry Don."

Don let the silence grow for a moment more, letting his agents squirm. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and hard. "That is my brother in that room. That is my brother who has been keeping a secret, and a big one. That is my brother, who we all know is a nice person, tearing into that agent!" His voice was growing more intense. Not louder, just more intense. "Now, I have no idea what happened. I have no clue what is going to happen. All I know is that we are going to work on this case to the best of our abilities."

All three of his agents were looking at him, to him. He knew that they would need to resolve this with Charlie, the four of them, before they could contribute their best effort to this case. Normally, they could all work with some office drama, but this was more than just a little argument. This was Charlie. None of them can work.

Seeing that they understood his point, Don relented. "You guys can come over for dinner. We can talk with Charlie then." At the surprised yet grateful looks, he continued. "But don't tell my dad. This is Charlie's secret to tell. We are only finding out about this because of work. We don't even know if Charlie _can_ tell us about it. NSA, right?" His lips quirked up.

"Never say anything." David softly supplied. "We won't, Don. You know we're better than that."

Don smiled. "Course I do. But do you? Do you understand the importance of keeping this a secret?"

They nodded. "Well I don't. And I don't think we'll know until someone fills us in more completely. That probably won't be happening until Charlie's done with that guy. Who knows when that will be?"

Colby chuckled humorlessly. "Yeah, Don. We get it." He paused. "Charlie was freaking me out. I had no idea that he could be that mad. It was downright scary!"

David smiled softly. "I've known him for longer than you two, and I had no idea that Charlie could get this mad about something. I've seen his defenses raise when someone challenges his math, but never to this extent."

Don leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands together. "There was one time when we were younger and he came close to this." His grin was nostalgic. "Charlie was trying to convince one of my buddies about the properties of multiplication and how amazing they are."

"How old were you?"

"I was ten, my buddy was ten, and Charlie was five."

Colby whistled. "Man, he was five?"

"He's been multiplying four digit numbers in his head since he was three. Multiplication is basically a fundamental skill for Charlie." The look of surprised and mild awe that crossed his agent's face reminded Don of just how smart his little brother was. Where once he would have been insanely jealous and resentful, now he was proud of Charlie's genius. _Well, sometimes genius._

"So my buddy and I were playing catch in the park, and Chuck wanted to come along." Megan smiled slightly, trying to picture a mini Don and Charlie. "He did, not that we were happy about it. We were tossing the ball back and forth, when Charlie made some complicated observation about how many times we could throw the ball if we threw twice as many times than we caught. Made no sense to us, but it was logical to Chuck." He chuckled. "Then my buddy had the brilliant idea to tell Charlie that his math was stupid." He smirked. "Charlie began to rant at him. My five year old brother was ranting at my friend for a good five minutes! I was so embarrassed. My buddy would never play catch around Charlie again."

David laughed. It was difficult to think of a younger version of Don, without the edge that life has put on him. Charlie, however, was innocent and guileless. An image of the young man cussing at a stranger rose to mind. _Maybe not._ An innocent man did not get as angry as Charlie had. Neither did an innocent man keep a major secret for who knows how long. _But he is still innocent. Just not as completely as you thought._ Memories of how upset Charlie would get during a difficult case, how he was so effected by the child pornography case, how bright his eyes were when he talked about math.

A door slammed, reverberating in the crowded FBI office. Every head swiveled to look at who made the disturbance—a livid, dark haired mathematician that was storming over to the elevators. David made to stand up when Don stopped him.

"I'll go and talk to him." He was looking at his brother intently. "See you at dinner?" Without waiting for an answer, Don strode over to join Charlie at the elevator. The doors slid open and shut with them inside, hiding them from prying eyes.

Megan turned to her co-workers. She sighed and moved to her own desk, the men following her lead. _Whatever's going on, I can only hope that it will turn out well._ The little twinge of foreboding was soon forgotten as she buried herself in work.

* * *

 **Yay! Let me know what you think. Thanks again to everyone who has followed or favorited or reviewed this. Chapter 9 will be up soon! See you next time!**


	9. Chapter 9

The door swung open.

"Charlie?" The voice was familiar, hauntingly so.

 _No. No. No. Nonononono._ Not him. Anyone but him. The NSA couldn't be _that_ stupid as to put him with Jaden Phillips. They couldn't be _that_ callous to do so. But, here he was. Jayden Phillips, in the flesh.

After he got over his immediate shock, Charlie had to struggle to keep his emotions down. Resentment, rage, bitterness. They were all in there.

That meeting was interesting. He was curious about the two devices. _What's on them that has the NSA so involved?_ Unfortunately, he could think of multiple scenarios, each one worse than the last.

It had been sort of decent until Phillips had mentioned "distractions"; Charlie had nearly lost it. He had no idea that it would be this difficult to see him.

He wasn't blind. He knew that Don and his team members were shooting glances at him and at each other. He wasn't dumb. He knew that there was going to be an interrogation at dinner tonight. Charlie could tell that they were worried about him, and he was concerned about how they would take this.

But once he heard Jayden Phillips start talking, any thought about the others flew out of his mind, replaced by raging emotions. It was as if no time had passed since they parted ways, and he felt each emotion that came just as keenly as when it was still fresh in his mind.

He could remember exactly what he felt like when he saw what happened to—

And again, he roughly pushed aside the memory. If he allowed himself to think about that, then he would lose the tenuous control he had for good.

The meeting was over now. Phillips grabbed his arm and dragged him into a room. Charlie let him, still mentally reviewing over the case. The slam of the door roused him from his thoughts.

Phillips wasted no time. "Charlie, I am trying to be of use here!" He rounded on the mathematician, anger and desperation lining his voice.

Charlie felt his hackles rising. "Of use." His own anger soared, reaching the boiling point. "Just like my warning was _of use_?"

"Dammit! Listen, Charlie." The agent lowered his voice dangerously. "That was a decade ago. It was in the past."

"In the past?!" That simple statement was the breaking point. Charlie exploded. "You call that in the past?! That was barely ten years ago. I was twenty. Twenty years old and you ruined me. How is that supposed to be for a genius, huh? Give him a job with the NSA, stick him with one of the world's top cynics, and then let the damn cynic run the show! Those other agents—" and here his throat closed up. His anger was getting the better of him. _Come on, Eppes! You're better than this! The last thing you need to do is get kicked off the case. Calm down!_ The internal warning passed by the wayside as anger and bitterness took over.

"Do you think that I don't know that? Do you think that a day goes by where I don't regret listening to you? I will live with this for the rest of my life, Charlie. You feel guilty. I _am_ guilty! If it wasn't so "top-secret" and if the circumstances were different I could be in prison! Hell, I could be executed! Do you think that I don't wish every second that I live that I could change what I did? I live with it every day." His smooth voice broke. "And you know what I got? A damn medal." He closed his eyes and rubbed his hand against his face. "Charlie, I am trying so damn hard. Can you give me a break?"

Charlie regarded him coldly. The display of emotion didn't move him. This was the man who had caused so many people pain, who had botched a "fool proof" plan, who had caused Charlie nightmares for years. The man who received an award for his "heroic" actions. The man who Charlie never wanted to see again.

Charlie looked at the man in front of him. He looked awful. Miserable, angry, shameful. A _coward_.

"No."

Jayden's face shut down and became hard.

"You know where you can reach me." With that, Charlie exited the room, slamming the door behind him. His anger was still hot, still too close to the surface. He ignored the stares that followed him. Practically everyone wanted to catch a glimpse. The elevators loomed in front of him, their metallic doors shut.

Footsteps came from behind him. A glance up showed Don. He couldn't help the anger that flared up. He didn't want anyone's pity, or their prying eyes dissecting him. He had enough of that already.

Don stopped in front of the elevators. His face was mercifully blank. Not curious, not anxious, just blank. Wiped clean. _That's what makes him a good agent. He can hide what he's thinking._ Charlie regarded his brother's face. _At least he's hiding it._ Some, such as Colby, were not even bothering to hide the fact that they were watching their resident math genius.

The elevators rattled open. The brothers got in. Neither of them had said a word, letting the silence grow in the metal box. Charlie glared at the floor markers. They were going at an impossibly slow rate. Impatient, he wanted to get out of this box. Be at his blackboards, away from his troubled, secret, classified past.

Don cleared his throat when they were at the third floor. Charlie turned his glare onto the doors, frowning. "Charlie, you got to talk about this." His head snapped up. He was expecting that. He wasn't expecting the surge of temper that came with it.

"Yeah? Why should that change? Just because I saw someone from my past doesn't mean I have to do anything, Don." Charlie couldn't help it. He snapped at his brother. The anger that was so hot and boiling was diminishing, but it wasn't gone. It was unfair to put him through the ringer and expect him to discuss the experience. "Would you want to go into a lengthy heart-to-heart about someone that you would really prefer not to talk about?"

The doors slid apart. Charlie charged through them, unaware that Bennette had slipped behind him. Don followed. Uncaring of where he walked to, Charlie just walked. After a few minutes, he found that he was standing by Don's black SUV.

"You need a ride?" His brother was leaning against a pillar, looking so casual. Different emotions emerged. Anger, frustration, gratitude. All of them raged through the tired mathematician. In that moment, Charlie deflated. The exhaustion, hunger, and overwhelming emotion overload swept over him. He wanted nothing more than to go bed.

He gave his brother a tired smile. "If you wouldn't mind."

Don just nodded. They both climbed into the car, lapsing into a silence. It lasted through the entire car ride.

Pulling up into Charlie's driveway, Don spoke. "The team's coming over. I didn't invite Larry or Amita." He gave a nod of gratitude. "I figured you didn't want anyone knowing besides us." Don paused, waiting for Charlie to comment. He didn't. "I told them not to tell anyone."

"Okay."

They walked in the Craftsman. Charlie headed straight for his bedroom, collapsing onto his bed. Sleep eluded him, though, robbing him of its escape. He lay in silence, mentally preparing himself for dinner. All that accomplished was tensing himself up even more. So he quietly made his way down the stairs, avoiding his father and brother, and went to work in the garage.

* * *

 **How was it? I do realize that Charlie is older than I am portraying him, but for the purpose of this story, he is 30. If you've made it this far- Congratulations! Thanks for everyone who's read it. You guys are great! See you next chapter.**


	10. Chapter 10

Don left his team by his desk and strode over to Charlie. Judging by the volume of the door slam and the anger written across his face, the meeting had not gone well. Well, he used the term meeting in the loosest sense. A meeting would suggest civility; the raised voices voided that. It was more like an… argument. Wasn't that exactly what went on? Only it was more heated than an argument. Much more heated.

He shrugged. Oh well. Whatever it was, Charlie was affected very deeply. Speaking of, his mysterious brother had reached the elevators, staring at them with a death glare. _Do I say something?_ As he approached, Don wiped his face of any emotion, putting on a blank mask. Just as well. The next second, Charlie looked up and examined his face. Suspicion was splayed in the tautness of his shoulders and the tightly clenched jaw. Chuck examined his face for a moment before he, satisfied with the results, shifted his gaze back to the metal doors.

 _Is that how you want to play it?_ Charlie was giving him the silent treatment. _Even as kids, I was better at this than him. Two can play this game._ If he was going to ignore Don, then Don can ignore him. He let the tense silence go on. He subtly watched the mathematician: the pinched lips, the furious eyes, the crossed arms. _When has Charlie ever been like this? As a kid, he was never this angry. And he had plenty of reasons to be angry._ He suppressed a bitter grin. Entering high school at age nine had been difficult for his brother.

The doors rattled open. The brothers got in; neither said a word. Both looked in different places. Charlie glared at the floor markers, Don watched the doors. The curly-headed man was growing impatient, that was obvious. Anger was simmering just beneath the surface, ready to boil over. His body was too taught, to tense. Every instinct Don had as an agent was screaming at him to get the answers to his questions. That would serve no purpose except to drive away Charlie. Every instinct Don had as a big brother was screaming at him to protect. For now he would hold his peace.

Another floor dinged by. They were at the third floor now. The elevator was slow today, but that would work in his favor. _Charlie needs to talk._ "Charlie, you got to talk about this." The reaction was immediate. His head snapped towards Don, anger and frustration becoming more pronounced on his face.

"Yeah? Why should that change? Just because I saw someone from my past doesn't mean I have to do anything, Don." The acerbic tone was unsurprising. He knew his brother, and compliant wasn't a term associated with Charlie Eppes. "Would you want to go into a lengthy heart-to-heart with someone that you would really prefer not to talk about?"

Don hid his small grin. Chuck got him there. He couldn't lecture Charlie about how to behave when he would do the exact same thing. They lapsed back into silence. The doors rattled open again, revealing the lobby. Chuck charged through the crowd, heedless of the intrusive eyes. Don followed.

Charlie walked for several minutes, eventually making his way to the parking lot, and therefore, Don's SUV. He slowed down, recognition flaring. Apparently Chuck wasn't watching where he was going. _What else is new?_ Charlie stopped and peered at the car. Looking at his brother, Don could tell his anger was far outweighed by concern for Charlie. Knowing Chuck, this was killing him. His brother looked so small. Like he had a nightmare.

"You need a ride?" More emotions scattered across Charlie's face, too fast for Don to identify. A moment later, he deflated noticeably. His shoulders slumped, his head sagged, and his posture slouched.

A faint smile flickered. "If you wouldn't mind."

Don nodded. He couldn't help but notice how tired Charlie looked. The smaller man climbed into the car, relaxing into the comfortable seats and settling into a daze.

The agent let the car ride go in silence. Anyone could see how exhausted the teacher was. How drained and frail. _Charlie's had a rough week. It just climaxed today._ He'd be blind to not see how hard Chuck was working for him. A flare of gratitude swelled up inside.

He couldn't begin to explain how much Charlie meant to him. Ever since he caught Charlie snooping in his case with the serial rapist, he'd come to respect Chuck's math. Chuck himself, too. He had never really understood the math, preferring to think about it like it was something that Chuck had that he could never hope to achieve. Growing up with a genius had its tolls. He had to watch as his nine year old brother started high school, watch as his brother graduated the same day as he did, watch as his brother was accepted into Princeton.

The relationship with Chuck had gone downhill once his brother had started climbing the school ranks. And until that fateful case, where he was home and Charlie was too, their relationship had stayed down in the dumps. Call it fate, luck, even God. But by some miracle, he had been in the house, left his maps out, and actually listened to Charlie. He had originally been angry—Charlie had always been looking through his stuff—but his father had calmed him down and made him see sense.

There was nothing he could do to repay his father for that. Looking at how far their friendship had come, he could see that Charlie was such an asset. Not that Charlie was only an asset to him. No, he was so much more than that. To the team, too. He saw the way that his team interacted with his brother. Like Charlie was their own little brother. Colby especially. Don chuckled. Colby was not good at hiding his affection for Charlie. He wondered if Colby even considered the fact that Charlie was pretty much the same age as him. _Probably doesn't matter to him._ Speaking of the team, Don had to tell Charlie that the team was coming for dinner.

Don navigated his car into Charlie's driveway. He spoke softly. "The team's coming over. I didn't invite Larry or Amita." A nod. "I figured you didn't want anyone knowing besides us." He waited, hoping that Charlie would say something. Chuck didn't. "I told them not to tell anyone." By anyone, he met Charlie's colleagues or their father.

"Okay." Don's heart squeezed. His brother sounded exhausted, too tired to make a comment or show excitement about their friend's coming over. _Of course, if you had an unwelcome surprise and they witnessed it, you wouldn't be super excited about them being near you either._

Two doors opened, two doors closed, two brothers walked into the house, but they split apart immediately after that. Charlie headed upstairs, Don for the couch. Don listened to Charlie climb the stairs and gently close his bedroom door. _Much softer than the office door._ As the memory of just how furious Charlie had been passed through his mind, he winced. The agent who had been on the receiving end of Charlie had gotten a much more enraged version. Not a fun time.

"Donnie?"

"Dad?" Alan's voice floated through the living room from the kitchen. He sighed. Was it too much to ask for a little time to be alone before dinner? _Yes._ His dad's head poked in the doorway.

"What are you doing home so early? It's only six."

Don suppressed another sigh. "I took the rest of the day off."

"Oh?"

"Is it that surprising?" The fake outrage in his voice made his father laugh.

"You rarely take time off. I barely remember the last time you took a vacation." The silver-headed man chuckled. "I got plenty of burgers for tonight. The grill's all set!" His dad was eager. Good.

"Hey, do you have enough for my team?"

"Just your team? Yeah." Alan tilted his head. "Why not Larry or Amita? Speaking of Larry and Amita, where's Charlie?" Alan hadn't seen his son for a couple of days. When Charlie wasn't in the garage, his office, or at the FBI, he was resting or on his way to one of the other locations. It was like there was a ghost in the house. Food was eaten, a bed was sometimes slept in, and laundry was dirtied, but he couldn't see the person responsible for it.

"Charlie's in his room. It was a stressful day today."

The eldest Eppes nodded sagely. "He's been working hard."

"I know Dad, I know." A comfortable silence fell over them as they thought fondly of Charlie and his tendency to stretch his endurance. He already had so many times. Don could think of multiple times. The Charm School boys, the sniper case, basically all of the cases he was given. Nothing could tear him away from a problem.

"I'll get the burgers ready."

"Thanks Dad."

His dad withdrew his head to bustle in the kitchen. Thankful that he didn't press the issue, Don checked his watch: 6:15. _They'll be here at seven._ He grabbed the TV remote and flipped to a random game. Relaxing into the couch, he hoped that there wouldn't be any fireworks at dinner.

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 **Chapter 12 is finished! Chapter 11 will be posted as soon as Chapter 13 is complete.**


	11. Chapter 11

The office was quieting down; more people were heading home for the night. One by one, team by team, their desk lights were clicked off, their computers shut down. The bullpen slowly emptied of life. The clock ticked to 6:30. _Normally, there's at least two or three stragglers who want to get their work done_. Now, surveying the still office, Megan could only see one other person working diligently at her desk.

She herself was used to far later nights than 6:30. Unfortunately, being part of Don's team included too many nights like that. But Megan wouldn't have it any other way. _Well, I would prefer more days off. But if I can put one more criminal behind bars, then that's worth sacrificing a day or two._ A soft sigh escaped one of her companions.

Megan turned her chair to face Colby. He was stretching, trying to work out the kinks in his neck. Her neck was pretty sore from leaning over to a computer all day, trying to get farther on Charlie's lists. The problem she had encountered was that the people were the wrong profile. Of course, human nature can never be one-hundred percent predictable, but it can be predictable enough. The profile that she had for one Hank Schwartz was indicative of an average American dad. He worked a respectable job at a bank, had a small home with a white picket fence, and was in the process of raising two little girls.

He was normal. Very normal. Far _too_ normal. Megan narrowed her eyes. _He was the picture of a stereotypical American suburban dad._ The absolute perfect family. Almost no one could be that "normal" without attempting to do so. _He's_ trying _to be this normal._ She glanced at the clock again. 6:35. They didn't have enough time for her to rework her profile before they were due at Charlie's.

She stood. David and Colby looked up from their computers. Gathering her stuff, she said, "We gotta be over at Charlie's soon. It's almost seven."

The two men nodded and started getting their stuff. "I'm going to be have a happy stomach tonight!" Colby rubbed his stomach. "I've eaten crappy food out of the box for too long! Have you existed on cereal, coffee, and bagels for a few weeks?"

"Not since college." Megan smirked. "I'm not dumb enough to."

Colby frowned, trying to hide the grin on his face. He almost succeeded. Almost. It had been a long day today for everyone. _Especially Charlie._ The argument behind closed doors was a mystery to him. Obviously, Charlie and Phillips knew each other. Obviously, it wasn't a happy time for either. Obviously, Don had absolutely no idea. Colby could see that in the fact that he was gone. Probably drove Charlie home. Somehow, he couldn't see Don leaving without his little brother.

The blonde agent had made some progress on the suspect. A Frank Ivering was a high school teacher. He lived in a small house, made a low income, and spent most of his time alone. There was nothing to suggest any involvement in the robberies. He hadn't bought anything really expensive since his house, which wasn't very expensive. It was located in a bad part of L.A. An isolated spot, far from neighbors…

 _It's a decent spot to hide out in._ His eyes narrowed. _A bad part of town, isolated, a place where no one pays attention to them._ Maybe the robbers are using his house! There wasn't time before they had to be at Charlie's house to check it out. He could wait until tomorrow.

David noticed his partner's eyes narrow. _Probably just realized something._ They flashed once before cooling down. _Huh._ "What?"

Colby looked at him. "What?" He was pretty sure that he didn't say anything. He thought it, but didn't say it.

David raised his eyebrows. "What did you think?"

His partner nodded. Now he understood. "I think that this Frank Ivering could quite possibly have something to do with it. His location's ideal. Isolated, a bad part of time, no neighbors. He could possibly in on it."

Megan piped in, "I agree. My Hank Schwartz is far too normal. The stereotypical suburban American dad. I basically passed him over." She paused, a faint smile on her lips. "You know, without Charlie's math, it would have taken us a lot longer to find the connection between the two, if at all."

The three agents grinned. It was no secret that Charlie's math was a saving grace for the department. Not only did they solve cases faster, they did not have to rely so much on circumstantial evidence. On tough cases, they could call a world class mathematician to help them. _A world class mathematician just happens to be my boss's brother. Who would've thought?_ David could still remember the time he met Charlie. It was during a particularly brutal case, a serial rapist, and Don had brought him in. He had done something with his math and produced an area that the rapist was working in. Personally, David had doubted the effectiveness of math, but then he had done his homework.

Charles Eppes was a world class mathematician. He graduated high school at thirteen, college at sixteen. He published a ground breaking paper in his early teens. He had been teaching mathematics at the California Institute of Science for years. Charlie Eppes was a certified genius.

After doing the initial background check on him, which was classified, he had begun to hope that the math thing might work. And then they found the rapist. That cemented his belief in Charlie. _Wait…_ He frowned. _Charlie's background was classified when I first met him. How long ago was that?_ Two years, give or take. _So Charlie has kept the situation with Phillips for at least two years._

Megan glanced at David. He was thinking, and with the mention of Charlie, she was sure that he was thinking of him. He frowned. "What's on your mind?"

At Megan's gentle probe, David spoke. "I've known Charlie for two years. To the extent of my knowledge, he hadn't done anything drastic in that time. That is, he never showed any behavior changes that we would think came with something to this scale." Megan and Colby's faces were interested. "I ran a background check on Charlie when he first came here. The thing is, part of it was classified."

Now Colby and Megan were very interested. "His background was classified?"

David nodded. "I didn't have the clearance to see what it was. I wondered about it, but we had a situation to deal with and it got pushed to the back of my mind. Quite honestly, I've never thought about it until now."

"Gee, Whiz Kid. Just how much trouble have you gotten into?"

"I'll guess we'll find out soon. There's no way that he can continue to hide it from us."

"He has for this far."

"We didn't know then. We do now."

Megan was insistent. She didn't understand how Colby and David were so passive about finding out answers. A glance at their tight faces had her revising her thought. They were obviously worried and concerned for Charlie, but they were thinking about this more rationally than she. _Pull yourself together, Reeves._ Her chiding did not ease the desire to force the answers out.

"6:40." David glanced at his watch. There was no way that they could get to Charlie's house in less than half an hour. "I'll call Don and let him know we'll be a few minutes late."

"Let's get the car."

"I'll drive." Colby snatched the keys and they were on the way to the elevator. The metal doors closed behind them.

"Do you think that Charlie will willingly talk to us?"

Megan smiled. "Not a chance."

David and Colby shared looks, privately wondering if Charlie would be able to fend off Megan, Don, themselves, the director, Phillips, and any other person curious as to why their resident mathematician was furious. _Whatever happens, I really hope that Charlie can hang on to his sanity._

The trio of agents hopped into their car and began the drive to the Eppes' resident.

* * *

 **I don't know how far away the FBI office is to the Eppes' place. Let's just pretend it's half an hour to twenty minutes away, okay? Chapter 13 is done!**


	12. Chapter 12

"Thanks David. I'll see you then."

" _Okay, Don. See you."_ Don flipped his phone shut and tossed it onto the side table.

"Who was that, Don?" Alan poked his head in from the kitchen.

"David. He'll be here in thirty." Don tossed over his shoulder, not bothering to turn his head. The game was just getting interesting. "They're up by five."

"Really?" The eldest Eppes shuffled forward, squinting at the television. "Ah, I can't see it without my glasses." Waving his hand dismissively, he tilted his head toward his oldest son. "That was David?" A nod. "What's happened?"

"What happened? Nothing happened."

Alan Eppes had not raised two sons without learning something. He could tell when one of them was hiding something from him, and right now his "Don alerts" were going off. Trying to play good cop bad cop against a special agent wasn't going to work. Not like when he was a boy. A change of tactics was needed.

He sighed and sat down in the armchair across the couch. Don watched him. _Somehow Dad knows that I'm hiding something._ Don thought of his emotionally wrung brother upstairs. _I can't tell him._

"What's up?"

Alan shrugged. "I don't know."

Don narrowed his eyes. "There something wrong?"

"You could say that."

Don nodded slowly. "I guess so. Again, I ask. What's up?"

"You know." He pointed a finger at his son. "There's something going on with you."

"I think that some of my training has rubbed off on you." The agent's eyes crinkled in amusement and his lips quirked up.

Alan raised his eyebrows. Don was trying to avoid the subject. But the man Alan Eppes had not lived this far in life without dealing with a few difficult people. He was not going to be sidetracked from his purpose by his son.

After a moment of silence, Don sighed. "It's a difficult case we're working on, Dad."

"The robberies?"

"Chuck told you?"

"I called Larry and he told me. Apparently Charlie had needed an astronomical analogy for inspiration sometime last week. I've barely seen Charlie lately. So no, Charlie did not tell me." Alan couldn't help the edge in his voice as he spat out the last sentence. He wasn't angry, but concerned. His sons were both showing signs of stress, neither of them had visited with him, and they didn't invite Larry or Amita tonight. Larry hadn't seen Charlie since he had left for the FBI. There was something going on with his sons and he didn't know what.

Don's good humor faded and he grew serious. "Dad." Alan glanced up, already remorseful of the harsh tone he used. "Charlie is having a more difficult time with this case than the others. A new development in the case, that came up today, concerns only my team and Charlie." The two men locked eyes. The battle of wills commenced. "I didn't invite Larry or Amita because I thought that Charlie would appreciate that. The new development isn't something that we can or would talk about, Dad." Don's gaze was serious and intense. "Please, do not question any of us about that. If you need to know, we'll tell you. If not, then please just accept that."

Alan sat in stunned silence. This was far more serious than he had thought. Of course, he knew it was serious, but nothing like this. "I, ah," he cleared his throat, "I won't."

Don searched his face. Satisfied with what he found, he dropped his eyes and refocused back on the TV. "Dad!" He groaned.

"Huh?"

"They're losing!"

Alan laughed. The game that Don was watching was a rerun of the game last night. There was a temptation to bet on the final score. _Nah._ Alan shook his head. Don wouldn't have hesitated if the roles were reversed and Charlie was the one watching.

He wouldn't ask about this development, but there was no way that he would forget. He stood up again and began walking back to the kitchen. After all, those burgers weren't going to flip themselves.

Don listened as his father preparing the burgers, thankful that he didn't press the issue. _I didn't lie, just omitted._ A snide voice whispered back: _that's basically lying._ His lips tightened. It wasn't his fault that Chuck just had to have a secret life that no one knew about. Now they had to deal with it and the ramifications.

 _Speaking of Chuck…_ Where is he? He went upstairs at least twenty minutes ago. There was no sound from upstairs, though. A little uneasy but not very concerned, Don slipped off the couch and climbed the stairs. The old stairs creaked under his feet. Once he reached the top, he saw that Charlie's room door was closed. _He hates it closed when he's inside._ Then where did he go?

Where Charlie always went in stressful times. Don headed back down the stairs, slipping past his apron-clad father. The fresh air greeted him as soon as he opened the door. The lights were on, shining through the evening light. Memories floated up. _Charlie, covered in chalk dust, waving his hands as he tried to explain his math. Charlie, eyes frantic, scribbling on the boards as he tried to solve a case. Charlie, sound asleep, as his body finally succumbed to the rest that had finally taken priority to the numbers._

He drew closer. The only sounds were birds chirping in the air. No click-clack of a chalk on board. Not yet, anyway. The door was pushed open. Don peered through, only to be struck at the oddity of what he was seeing.

Charlie was not scribbling on one of the many boards in his sanctuary. In fact, Charlie was nowhere near his beloved black boards. Chuck was hunched over the desk, clutching something. In his hands was a small square of paper. _Equation? Note?_

Chuck was completely still. His dark eyes were focused completely on the slip of paper. Don mentally debated if he should say anything or just leave or watch.

"You know, you could knock."

Don's eyebrows raised. "And you do?" Chuck smiled slightly.

"No. But—" he cut off Don's comment—"I do if the person is obviously trying not to be seen."

"You should try a little harder, Chuck. Wasn't difficult to guess where you went."

"Not everyone has an FBI agent as a brother."

"True." The two brothers faced each other. _Do I ask him? Do I wait for him to tell me?_ Don had no idea what he should do. This was uncharted territory.

"Not now, Don." Charlie's strained voice broke through his musings. Don looked his brother in the eye.

"Why not?"

"Because I can't. I won't. I couldn't."

Don nodded slowly. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Gosh, Chuck. Don't look so surprised. I'm allowed to be a big brother every once in a while." Charlie smiled. "I didn't come out here to pester you. I came to let you know that the team'll be here soon."

"Really?" Charlie checked his wrist. No watch. "What time is it?"

"6:50."

"Oh."

They lapsed into silence. It wasn't tense, just quiet. A moment passed.

"We should go in."

"Yeah."

Silence again. Then Charlie straightened and walked to the door. "Don't want to be late to our own dinner."

"No, we really don't."

Two dark haired men left the garage and entered the house, unaware of the eyes following their every move.

* * *

 **So sorry about not updating! Chapter 14 is not done, and I have a huge writer's block. So, I figured that I might as well give you guys something. Better late than never, right?**

 **Hey. I have an update that I want to tell you guys. It's going to be in my profile. You might want to check!**


	13. Chapter 13

Charlie lay stretched out on his bed. Last night's dinner had been a nightmare. No one had told Alan about the case, which was nice. But all of the pointed looks, furtive glances when they thought that he wasn't looking, and silent exchanges had worn his nerves down and frazzled them.

He wondered whether Colby was going to say something or not. Throughout the evening, he had opened his mouth to speak but then changed his mind and closed it. He wondered if the agents were trying to annoy him as much as possible. Multiple times Charlie had walked out of a room to hear whispers follow. _They could have just pulled me aside to ask. It's not as if I bite._ Although, he could bark loudly.

 _Jayden knows that. Of course, after I'd barked at him I bit._ Don's team didn't need to know that. When he had first found out what happened, Jayden and he had come to blows. He had initiated, but Jaden had done the unforgivable.

Dark thoughts rose in his mind. _Yelling at Jayden, shoving his equations at him. Jayden shaking his head, pushing Charlie away. The mushroom cloud looming over—_ "Stop it!" He whispered. Nothing good would come from watching his troubled past. There was no way that he would ever forget it, so why torture himself even more? Just seeing Phillips was awful. But if he started having nightmares again?

 _Stop it!_ Charlie heaved a sigh and sat up straight in his bed. The clock next to him showed a glowing 2:45. No one else was awake. That wasn't surprising, though. Charlie often woke up early in the morning to work.

Making up his mind, Charlie got dressed and slipped out of the bedroom, down the stairs, and into the garage. The dark space greeted him. It was his quiet spot. His spot to think. He picked up a piece of worn chalk.

Numbers poured from his mind through his hand and onto the board. The swirling activity swept his mind up and he lost himself in the numbers. Seconds, minutes, hours may have passed. Time was only a concept pushed out to make room for more numbers. One board after another filled up bearing the results of the maelstrom of the mathematician's mind. There was nothing but the numbers. Nothing but material that a graduate math major would have trouble comprehending.

The waves of numbers finally receded, drawing Charlie out of the focused state he was in. For the first time, he noticed that sunshine was splayed across the walls. Birds were chirping. He stepped back, trying to see what his session of math had produced.

"Mr. Eppes."

Charlie jumped. The voice was right next to him, his left ear to be precise. He spun around and came face to face with Agent Bennette. The plain man's expression revealed nothing.

Charlie looked at the agent, fighting down feelings of embarrassment and fright. _It's not a good feeling to not know how long someone was watching._ "Yes?"

"The Director needs to speak with you." Charlie nodded, his mind already packing his things.

"Yeah, yeah." He turned to head back into the house. "I'll be right out." Not waiting to see if Bennette was following him or not, he entered his house and ran right into—

"Hey Don."

"Charlie." Don was dressed in a sweatshirt and jeans. Clearly he wasn't planning on going in to the office today. _What day is it?_ Saturday. Oh! He had worked since early this morning.

"What time is it?"

"Eight." Charlie nodded slowly. He'd been lost in numbers for hours. _At least it wasn't days._ There had been several instances where he'd lost himself in math for periods greater than forty-eight hours. _That was the last time that Jayden Phillips was in town._ A bitter smile twisted his lips. _History repeats itself._

"How long have you been working?" Don's voice wasn't condescending. It was just curious. _Got to give him a hand. He's holding it in._

"Couple of hours."

Don nodded. _Our main style of communicating is nodding_. Charlie hid a grin. _Seems like all we do is nod._ Charlie made to move past him to the stairs.

"You going to get some sleep now?" Again, nothing condescending. _This is weird. Nice, but weird._

"No. I need to grab some things."

"What for?" This was amazing. _Are we really having a decent conversation after last night's dinner?_ Maybe.

"I need to go." Charlie tried not to squirm under his older brother's gaze.

"Where?" _Ah. Here's the FBI agent._

"Work." Charlie held back a wince at the extremely ambiguous answer, hoping that Don wouldn't press him on it. He didn't know if he would be able to convince him that everything was normal. _He doesn't know about Bennette._

Don nodded again, his eyes perusing Charlie's. They stared at each other, two pairs of dark eyes trying to find out what the other was thinking.

The silence stretched on. Before the steady gaze broke his defenses, Charlie walked to the stairs. "I have to go." Every step he took he could feel the gaze boring into his back. He was intensely relieved when he reached his bedroom and was out of his brother's scrutiny.

Quickly, he haphazardly threw notebooks and papers into his bag. There probably wasn't going to be time to do anything other than work at the NSA for the rest of the day. _That's always fun. I love it when they commandeer my life. Especially after the last time._

The bitter mathematician shoved his thoughts out of his mind; more important things had to be done. _Like finding my other notebook._

At last all of the wayward papers were stuffed into the satchel and Charlie was heading down the stairs.

 _Finally!_ He was out the door. _Didn't see Don._ Charlie shrugged. His brother had other important things to occupy his time. _Of course, normally when he's pursuing those "other things"_ _he's wearing a suit._

Charlie shrugged off the stray thought. His legs carried him to where he saw Bennette's car parked a couple of doors down. The unobtrusive SUV was similar to most of the FBI's standard issue car. He could see Bennette's profile in the tinted windshield.

The whole picture was… off. Maybe it was the memories of Phillips picking him up in a small silver car. Maybe it was hanging around with Don and the team for so long that any black SUV was synonymous with friends. Maybe it was the complete cliché of a dark car driven by a man in a black suit wearing black sunglasses.

 _What about all three?_ Bennette jerked his head towards the back. Confused, Charlie passed the passenger door and pulled open the one behind it.

"Hello, Charles."

* * *

 **This is the last chapter I have written. I'm sorry, very sorry, but I have a HUGE writer's block. So, the updates are going to be sporadic at best and nonexistent at worst. I am not giving up on this story! Or my other one. But I am going to put this on a hiatus for a month let's say. By the end of March, I will have started again. Again, I am so sorry. I'll miss you guys!**


	14. Chapter 14

_The dinner could have been better. Of course, it could have gone much worse._ Colby, Megan, and David were quiet the next morning at the office. Funny how a seemingly innocent event could linger in their minds for the rest of the night and into the next morning. Nothing had happened, though. That was the subdued feeling was so disquieting. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened, barring the reason why the team was there in the first place. That was bizarre enough.

 _Megan knocked on the door. Colby and David stood behind her, waiting silently for one of the Eppes. Surprisingly, it was Charlie who opened the door. They hadn't seen him since he stormed out of the office with Don. He smiled and invited them in._

 _Colby couldn't help noticing the smile never reached his eyes. Charlie had never been difficult to read, but Colby was lost. What happened to the innocent man who pushed his math on anyone who would listen that turned him into an angry man, perfectly capable of engaging in a shouting match and emerging as the apparent victor._

" _Come in. Dad's grilling the burgers."_ _Charlie ushered them inside, herding them towards the porch._

 _Alan Eppes was visible in the window, wearing an absurd apron and a chef's hat. Don was standing next to him, listening to him. They followed Charlie through the kitchen and out the back door. Alan was telling a story to Don. The back porch was illuminated by the fading sunlight. The whole setting seemed picturesque, somehow. The sun gently silhouetting the two men, their hair glowing gold._

" _Mr. Eppes!" Megan smiled endearingly. Who wouldn't enjoy seeing the man that behaved like the team's father? Also, he was making them dinner._

 _Alan turned around. "Aha. I was wondering when you were going to get here."_

" _Sorry, Mr. Eppes. Traffic was even worse than usual."_

" _It's completely fine, David. Good thing that my grill took so long to start!"_

 _David grinned. "And why was that?"_

" _My tank of gas was empty. I could have sworn that I just bought a new one!" He pointed the tongs accusingly at Charlie. "Did you use any of my gas?"_

" _What? No." Charlie answered, but his voice was lacking the enthusiasm and energy that usually accompanied having Megan, Colby, and David over for dinner. Colby frowned, but David and Megan hid their concern behind polite smiles._

 _Colby, however, didn't get the memo. He shot a quick look at his fellow team members. Megan glared at him and shook her head minutely._ Leave it alone _. Her gaze traveled back to Alan. He was also looking at Charlie curiously._

 _Don noted the awkward silence and glanced over at Charlie, who was looking pained and annoyed and increasingly frustrated._

" _Dad, are your burgers burning?"_

 _And with that, the silence was broken. Alan whirled around and exclaimed at finding that his burgers were indeed being burned. Megan and Colby stepped out of the way as Alan rushed into the house to grab a plate. David inched closer over to Don, trying to be subtle and avoid detection from either Eppes. Don was watching with an amused grin. Charlie was looking at all of them with the air of the only sane person in a room full of crazies._

 _Alan reappeared, brandishing a platter for the meat. He charged toward the grill and proceeded to salvage what he could of the burnt burgers._

Those burgers had been delicious, consumed with great gusto. However, throughout the munching and praising Alan, the three guests had exchanged looks. The agents had tried to shoot meaningful glances at each other when they thought Charlie wasn't looking.

 _The evening dissolved into comfortable chatter. Alan and David were engaged in a conversation about how much a casserole could be baked before it became too dry. Colby and Megan were chiming in their thoughts about the best spices to use when they were not amiably bickering with each other. Don was staying quiet, letting his dark eyes roam over his friends and father. Charlie was also staying quiet. Far quieter than he normally was at these gatherings._

 _Colby looked sideways at the curly haired man, never pausing in his debate with Megan._

 _David glanced subtly at the mathematician during the lulls in his conversation._

 _Alan snuck a peek at his youngest when David got a glass of water._

 _Megan caught a glimpse of her friend when Colby engaged Alan in an argument._

 _Don stared at his brother discretely, trying to decipher the other man's emotions._

 _Charlie's face was neutral. Blank. If he noticed them looking at him, he gave no reaction._

Colby could have punched himself. Of course Charlie had noticed! Why else would he have been so quiet and withdrawn throughout the dinner? No sense beating himself up about it though. What's done is done. That was last night and now it is this morning.

"Have you gotten farther on your profiles?" They were in their workroom, where they could put the maps and pictures on the screen. David was looking at the two of them, holding a folder loosely.

Megan sighed and leaned forward. "No. Well, partly. I have one done. Hank Schwartz. But I'm still working on Don's: Oliver Jenson. You?"

David gave a soft laugh. "Not yet. I have Robert Peterson."

"I've got Frank Ivering." Colby went to the laptop and pulled up the information he'd found on Ivering. His driver's license dominated the screen. A little stick of a man, he barely reached five foot five. His blonde hair was cut short, almost a buzz cut but not quite. His lips were twisted into a scowl, a strange facsimile of a smile.

"Usually you try to smile for a picture." Megan frowned, trying to analyze him just by looking at the picture.

Colby chuckled. "This guy didn't get the memo." He put his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together. "He's a high school teacher at Charlottesville High School and lives on the edge of the city. It's a small house, large yard. He lives alone and makes a low income. It is a possible location and motivation for involvement in the robberies."

"No high school teacher makes very much. Does he have a record?"

"No. There's nothing that indicates any previous involvement. I've pulled his records." The financial statements joined the driver's license. Colby circled a line. "Except here. Now, without pulling any money from his bank accounts, he all of a sudden has enough cash lying around to pay off his house."

"That does seem a little suspicious."

David snorted. "For being so skilled that they can stump the FBI, these robbers, or at least one of them, are stupid."

"I was thinking of going to interview him."

"Interview, Granger, or bring him in?"

"Either one works."

The other two agents shared a glance. "I'm coming." David stood and went to grab his stuff.

Megan sighed, sinking deeper into her chair. "I need to finish my profiling on Jenson." She scrunched her nose. "Not very appealing."

Colby left to go to the elevators. _Maybe something good will come from this. Maybe he'll run._ If he runs, then there would be probable cause to arrest him. _Don't need to bother with a warrant._

His partner came up behind him. "I'll drive."

"Like you'd ever let me drive."

David just laughed and entered the elevator, Colby joining him.

Megan watched until the two men passed from her line of sight. She sighed. "You'd better give me a vacation after this, Don." _Hawaii would be nice._ Grabbing the folder that corresponded with Jenson, she sat down to work with palm trees swaying in her mind.

* * *

 **Hello my lovely audience! I am back! I want to say thank you to everyone who viewed my stories while I was away. There was not a day that I did not have at least one or two views. You are amazing! I think I have finally banished the block in my mind, and I am currently working on Chapter 17 and also some for my other story, Definitions. (Reviews speed up the process! Just so you know)**

 **I have recently discovered the amazing feature of Ao3, (Archive of our own) that allows one to download the story they are reading. I now have an account there, under the same pen name: KKray. I am working on posting all of the chapters on that site.**

 **Notes about this chapter: I am making up LA's geography. I have no idea if Charlottesville, California actually exists, or if it's near LA. I don't care. It may exist solely for my story. Let me know how I did!**


	15. Chapter 15

"Hello, Charles."

Charlie peered into the dark interior of the car. The other occupant, a man, could only be one person. "Director?"

Robert Tompkins gestured to the seat next to him. "Close the door, would you, Charles?"

Charlie clambered into the car, dragging the door shut behind him. "I thought I was going to see you at the NSA office." Bennette, the driver, was still as a statue. His hands were gripping the wheel and he seemed oblivious to the conversation happening behind him. He pulled out of the street and was apparently concentrating on driving.

Tompkins nodded slowly. "That was the original plan, but I wanted to brief you on this case in a more private area than my office."

"More private than the Director of the NSA's office? Is someone spying on the director of spies?" Tompkins laughed softly. "There's really no other reason for you to be by my house otherwise."

"You always were the best at logic. No one has surpassed you yet. They came close, and believe me, they've tried."

Obligingly, Charlie smiled. "You must not be training them like you used to, Director."

"Or you were simply the absolute best at what you did." Charlie glanced away at that.

"If you're trying to talk me into working for the NSA-"

"I'm not, Charles."

The two men lapsed into silence. Prickles of déjà vu were ghosting over Charlie's skin. Memories of times past floated through his thoughts. The Director had been younger and vital back then. The director of now was fuller and sagging slightly. The clear complexion had been marred with worry lines.

" _Doctor Eppes."_

" _Yes?"_

" _Have you ever given any thought to expanding your horizons beyond the land of academia?"_

"What is so different about this case that you wanted to brief me personally?"

Charlie had to give the man credit for not drawing out the suspense any more than he had already done. That had not changed.

"This situation is more far reaching and disastrous than we, I, had anticipated."

If Charlie hadn't been interested in this before, he certainly was now. "How so?"

Tompkins launched right into explaining. "We were keeping the disk and the flash drive in the bank. They have sensitive information on them."

He raised his eyebrows when the man paused. "I seriously hope you're not going to make me ask."

The Director nodded. "Of course not. The flash drive is information pertaining to the NSA. Who we're tracking, who we're building a case against, who we're watching. Safe houses. Employee information. Account numbers. Cases overseas."

Charlie gave a low whistle. "You sure do know how to screw up, Director." He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, ignoring the sharp look aimed at him. "What is on the disk?"

"That, Charles, is where you come in. You specifically, I mean. Your brother can find these two items." Charlie raised his eyebrows again. "The thing is, we don't know what is on the disk. It's encrypted."

"And you need me to decipher it for you." That was a statement, not a question.

"Yes."

There was another moment of silence.

"Where did you get the disk from?"

Tompkins cleared his throat. "You know how it is, Charles."

"So I'm supposed to help my brother find the disk, then I have to decode it, figure out what's on it, tell you about it, and I'm not going to find out the who and where?" The question was sharp and sarcastic.

The Director didn't react. "I am not supposed to tell you. I can't help what you figure out on your own."

Charlie grinned softly. "What would happen if I were to let Don know?"

"Charlie." The humor was stripped out of the tone, leaving it completely serious. "That disk most likely contains information about how deeply terrorists have been able to sink their claws into America. Much like the flash drive that was stolen. That information is absolutely vital to the government, and if anyone knows that you have it and can decode it, your entire family will be in danger. Heaven help them if you tell anyone about what is on this disk."

The mathematician's eyes had grown wide and dark. Fear and anger was burning in him. He hissed back at Tompkins, "Then why did you come to me?"

"Because you are the only man who has the resources and experience that we can trust." The answer was simple and sure and devastating. No matter how angry Charlie may be at the agency in general or the people working for it, he could not ignore something that would be a huge step forward in anti-terrorism. He could not ignore something that would potentially eliminate a large part of terrorism in the United States. Not even if it came at a high price.

Charlie sighed deeply. _Why is it always terrorism? Why not how we could solve world hunger? Why not how we can rectify poverty? Why is it always terrorism?_

He could feel Tompkins' gaze boring into him. They felt like hot coals, ready to burn him if he ever turned around. Ready to set him on fire, just like they had done before. Ready to brand him forever.

If he accepted, he would become isolated from his friends and family once again. He would bear the weight of this assignment alone. He would hide his work from his colleagues. He would interact with Jayden. He would become irritable, tired, stressed. He would start to unravel.

If he didn't…

Terrorists would still be out there. The government would be next to useless in preventing another attack. Terrorists would have the advantage. People would die.

He closed his eyes and clenched his fist. _Why is this so hard?_ The decision that he had to make was clear. That didn't make voicing it any easier.

"Charles?"

He huffed out a short breath of defeat. "Who will I be working with?"

If Tompkins was surprised at the decision, he gave no indication. "Jayden Phillips and his partner, Lewis Abbot."

Charlie nodded, eyes still closed.

"How will I get the disk?"

"Agent Phillips will give it to you."

"What if Don asks me about it?"

"Will he know?"

The silence grew again as the buildings of CalSci loomed before them.

"Good luck Charlie."

The car pulled to a stop and Charlie climbed out. He watched the vehicle leave, his mind still reeling from what he had just agreed to and the consequences that would follow. A few moments would pass before he turned around and walked to his office.

* * *

 **Before you guys freak out about Charlie, let me explain. Yes, he is OOC. I realize this. See, I know something about his past that you guys don't. That is why Charlie's behavior seems strange. I am trying to cater to his attitude and behavior in the show itself and his attitude and behavior in the past. Please don't make a big fuss about this. I'm doing this for you guys.**

 **It's awesome to see all of you guys looking at my story. Please review! I want to know if you guys still like me.**

 **But other than that, let me know what you think!**


	16. Chapter 16

Don rolled his neck, trying to ease out the kinks in it. _Sleeping on the couch isn't as fun when you're older_. He had spent the night at Charlie's, too tired and worried to go back to his own apartment.

Chuck had gone to bed immediately after his team had left. Their dad started to go after him, to make him reveal what the problem was and how they could fix it. Don, however, had stopped him.

"He just wants to be alone and go to sleep. We should let him."

Alan, though unconvinced, had let Charlie go without pursuit.

Now, this morning, there was no sign of the tousle headed mathematician. He had not come down from his room even though it was nearly 7:45. The sun was shining and birds were chirping. It was a completely stereotypical California morning. The only thing that would complete the picture is his brother.

Don listened for Charlie upstairs. There was no movement. _He probably went back out to the garage._ He had been up since 6:30 and had heard no one. Their father didn't get up until after eight on most days.

The back door was unlocked, giving credence to Don's theory. He peered out towards the garage and saw the lights on. _How long has he been in there?_

Don turned and went to go start a pot of coffee. He heard the garage door close. _Chuck's coming._ Don stood to offer Charlie some when he came striding past, seemingly lost in his thoughts. They shoulder checked and Charlie stopped.

"Hey Don." He couldn't tell if Charlie was distracted or actively avoiding his gaze.

"Charlie." Charlie eyed him up and down, taking in the sweatshirt and jeans. Don eyed him up and down, taking in the rumpled clothing and wild hair.

"What time is it?"

"Eight." Charlie nodded slowly. His older brother could tell that he'd been lost in numbers for hours. Don hoped that Charlie had gotten some sleep.

"How long have you been working?" Don kept his tone merely curious, not letting any negative thoughts color his words. Charlie seemed like he would bolt if given a reason.

"Couple of hours."

Don nodded, digesting the information. _At least it wasn't all night. He had no clue what time it was._ Charlie made to move past him to the stairs.

"You going to get some sleep now?" Again, nothing condescending. He was trying to talk to Chuck, and the other man was not doing much to help.

"No. I need to grab some things."

"What for?" He picked up on the evasive answer, the slight fidgeting. _He's hiding something. What?_

"I need to go." His curiosity increased.

"Where?"

"Work." Don nodded again at the answer. Charlie was clearly trying to dodge his question. He met Charlie's eyes, staring at each other, trying to figure out the other's thoughts.

Don let the silence stretch on, not moving his eyes from his brother's. _He's wavering._ Charlie, however, abruptly broke the contact by walking to the stairs. "I have to go." Don stared at his brother's back, willing him to turn around and share what the problem was.

He didn't. Don finally lost him to the upstairs.

He turned back to his coffee. The rich aroma wafted throughout the kitchen.

Wandering back to the backyard, Don decided to take a look at what Charlie had been doing. The garage was open and dusty. The sunlight caught and highlighted the tiny particles of chalk dancing in the air. Chalkboards were littered with equations and numbers and variables.

Don took a step closer, trying to understand what his brother had produced. The math was so far over his head that he didn't understand any of it.

The agent absorbed the sight for another moment. He shook his head in wonder and went back to the house.

He had originally planned on working from home, but he was getting an urge to check in at the office. So, not one to sit around doing nothing, he changed into his suit and got into his car.

During the drive to the FBI office, he thought about the case. Four guys, unrelated at first glance, linked only by Charlie's math. Some may scoff at the connection, but he would ignore them. Charlie had been proven reliable time and time again.

He pulled into his parking spot and made his way indoors to his team.

The elevators dinged open and he was out, walking towards Megan, the only one there.

"Hey Don. I thought you were home today." Megan slid over to his desk.

"I was, but I figured I'd get more done here. Plus, I was hoping to bounce some ideas off of Chuck, but he's not there."

"Working?" Megan looked at him. She was obviously interested. Charlie was an important member of the team, and he was loved by everyone. A side effect of that was that everyone was interested in his comings and goings.

Don shrugged. "That's what he said."

She glanced away as she asked, "Is that what you think?"

He wasn't surprised at the question. He was asking himself that. The answers he was coming up with he was disliking more and more. "I don't know. I want to believe him."

"Do you not?"

"I don't know." He could tell she was about to question him some more, so he attempted to change the subject. "How are the profiles going?"

He was appraised by green eyes that saw right through his flimsy excuse. "I got Colby and David to give me their thoughts on them."

"Where are they?"

"Interviewing Frank Ivering."

"One of Charlie's guys?" She nodded.

"They've been gone for an hour. It hasn't been too long."

"What do you think about them?"

Megan turned around and grabbed four folders. "I think Charlie was right on the mark. I haven't gotten to the secondary list, but the primary fits right in. All of them could potentially be our guys."

Don smiled softly. "One thing's going right, huh?"

She returned his smile. "Far better than yesterday. I thought Charlie was going to disappear."

The two agents sat next to each other, each wrapped up in their own thoughts. The quiet was disrupted by the ringing of his cell phone.

"Hello?"

" _Don?"_ David's voice was clear, loud, and anxious. There was some noise crackling in the background. It sounded like fire.

"What happened?" His voice was sharp, flinging out the question.

 _"Granger's down!"_

* * *

 **The action is starting to pick up! Let me know what you think!**


	17. Chapter 17

"We were supposed to turn! Turn!" David pointed angrily at the adjacent street that the dark SUV sped past. "How have you ever gotten everywhere when you never turn?" He slumped down in his seat. "You missed the turn."

Colby's eyes were dancing with mirth. "I had no idea! I mean, the fifteen times that you've told me that I've missed the turn obviously weren't enough." He fought down a smile. "I didn't realize that you had our directions memorized, David." His hands gripped the steering wheel lightly, showing no indication of turning.

"I don't! I just know how to get there!"

"Really." Colby laced his voice with as much skepticism as he could. "What's the address?"

David answered promptly. "142 Shillstone Charlottesville, Los Angeles."

The blonde agent made no attempt to hide his smirk. "And you know that by?"

His partner just snorted and turned away. They sat in quiet, only the sound of tires propelling the vehicle as background music.

"Are you sure that you know where you're going?" David tried to keep his tone gentle.

Colby glanced at him appraisingly. "You've known me for how long and you still don't trust me?" The hurt oozed out of him, far too much for it to possibly be real. "David, I'm hurt."

"Yeah, yeah. Just get us there without causing us to turn into road kill?"

"What about mostly road kill? Not all the way, but more than half?"

"There is no such thing as being half road kill. You're either road kill, or you're alive. You can't be both." David chuckled.

"Ah, but you can be half dead." Colby kept a straight face, making his expression emotionless as he could, trying to keep his laughter in.

David paused. "All right, I'll give you that."

The two agents drifted off into a comfortable silence for a few miles. Colby guided the car through the traffic onto a smaller road. The minutes passed in bumpy quiet. The small road soon petered out into a dirt road, littered with trash and pot holes.

"How can anyone ever enjoy living down here?" Colby forced the words out awkwardly, the constant jarring of the car making it difficult to speak.

David grunted in reply when they hit a particularly deep rut.

Finally, the small house became visible. 142 Shillstone. The house, more like a shack, did not have a very welcoming atmosphere. The outside was completely derelict. The wooden roof was sagging precariously; one good rain and the whole house would cave in. The stairs up to the porch were few and far in between. The windows were so filled with dust that they blocked the light from the inside. The faded grey walls were chipped and weathered. The shortest, and nicest, description would be that the house looked abandoned.

"We should call backup on the house alone!"

There was something wrong about the house. No respectable teacher would let their house look like this. No man should let his house look like this. Especially not with the going price of mortgages and how much Frank Ivering had paid for it.

Colby guided the SUV closer to the derelict building. However, he made sure to park it far enough away that it would not be incapacitated by hostiles. _Better safe than sorry._ The age-old saying floated through the air, both signifying and enhancing the potential danger.

The two friends shared looks with each other.

 _Ready?_

 _Ready._

 _Gun?_

 _Yeah. You?_

 _Yeah._

The doors opened in synchrony while the occupants stepped out. The doors slammed in synchrony while the occupants walked away cautiously. Gravel crunched underfoot. Birds chirped from the trees outlining the clearing.

"Doesn't look like anyone's home." David commented softly.

"Now, or ever?" Colby muttered back.

They were now standing on the rotted wooden porch and eyeing the door. "Colby, you knock."

"What? No! You do it!"

"No!"

The door was horrible. It was once wooden, but there seemed to be a sort of entity living on it. Not living, at least not anymore. It appeared to be dead and molded over. Greenish-white fuzz grew in splotches of thick and even thicker. The entire door was covered in it. And neither of the two tough, hardened, city detectives wanted to get anywhere near the monstrosity.

David stepped over a hole in the porch to a window and he rapped his knuckles on the grimy surface. "Mr. Ivering, can we talk to you?"

Colby laughed. "As if he'd come out. If he's here."

David responded, sarcasm layering his voice, but Colby didn't hear him. The familiar feeling of the hairs on the back of his neck prickling grabbed his attention. _Danger._ Those hairs had saved him countless times on this job and in his military career. Now that he's sensing them here, Colby knew that action was coming.

"Hey David. What are the chances that we have a friendly man near us? I'm thinking none." His tone was still conversational, not letting the serious implications of his instincts color his words. His posture was relaxed though his eyes scanned the surroundings carefully.

David straightened up from his bent position by the window. "Why's that?" He copied Colby's stance and tone. _No use letting an observer know that we're onto him._

"My neck is tingling."

"Are we being watched?" David forced a grin. _Make it believable._

"Probably. I can't tell where."

"Do we head to the car?"

Colby cast his gaze towards the vehicle. Besides the distance they would have to cover in order to reach it in the first place, there was nothing to provide protection except the car itself. It was parked in the middle of a clearing. Trees ringed the edges, but there were none close to the SUV.

"No. Too little cover."

David nodded slowly. It was a testament to his trust in Colby that he made no protest, even though he himself couldn't feel anything off. More off than it already was. "Do we go in the house?"

Colby appraised the shack. Its filthy exterior refused to reveal its dirty secrets. _And they would be dirty indeed._ Anything could be lurking in there, from their suspect to a child to an explosive…

"Damn!" That's why no one was coming out! They were being lured there! "David, to the car!"

The two agents bolted off the porch. No one stood to take a shot at the fleeing men. No one opened the door to allow the men to enter.

They had reached the car in record time, still a few feet away when-

BOOM!

The shack exploded in a massive fireball. Every rotted piece of wood became flying shrapnel, intent on impaling anyone in its path. The sound of the explosion was astonishing. David and Colby flung themselves on the ground a split second before the shockwave dropped them. Heat rolled over their back, singing their clothes.

Ash filtered through the air before settling on the ground. Shrapnel pieces stopped hitting the ground.

David picked his head up carefully. "Colby?"

His partner grunted in reply. "I'm fine. You?"

"Yeah."

They stood, warily looking for the person responsible for the detonation. Their guns were now out of their holsters and in their hands.

 _This was just cleaned!_ Colby pushed down his anger at the audacity of the criminal for soiling his suit. _We'd better catch him._ Plus, now there was going to be paperwork. As if he didn't have enough to do already.

They gradually made their way to the burning remains of the shack as they searched for anything that would lead them to their suspect.

David was just about to tell Colby to stop and call Don when a tiny movement caught his attention. He turned.

A man had come out of the trees. Three things were apparent. He was obviously Frank Ivering. He was obviously the detonator, if the small switch was anything to go by. And he had a gun trained on his partner. His partner's back, to be more precise.

David's heart jumped in his throat as he yelled, "Colby! Behind you!"

Colby spun around. The man pulled the trigger. Colby fell. David pulled the trigger. The man fell.

David was running, feet pounding the scorched earth. Colby was lying there, doing nothing to alleviate David's fears. Blood was blossoming in a sickening crimson flower on his chest, concentrated on the upper left section.

David fell to his knees. He reached out with shaking hands to feel for a pulse. One second passed, then two, then a third before he could distinguish a steady, if slow, heartbeat. He released the breath he hadn't known he was holding as relief flooded him. _Colby was alive_.

He scrambled to the other man. The bullet had passed through his chest, likely piercing the heart and killing him instantly. A vicious swell of satisfaction rose in his chest, disturbing and wonderful at the same time. The man who had just shot his partner was dead.

The agent turned his attention back to his unconscious partner. They were too close to the roaring fire for comfort. Finding a way to move Colby without furthering his injury was difficult, but David managed. They were now by the superficially damaged SUV. David laid Colby flat on the ground before flipping out his cell phone.

One ring, then two.

" _Hello?"_ Relief once again flooded the agent as he heard his boss's voice.

"Don?"

" _What happened?"_

"Granger's down!" The call was disconnected then. _Crappy coverage._ David settled down against the side of the car, waiting for Don to come and Colby to wake up.

 _We really should have called for backup._

* * *

 **Wow! That chapter just kept on going! So, did you like it? Please let me know! It really speeds along the writing process, if you know what I mean. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed my story!**

 **Every Sunday is going to be a new update.**


	18. Chapter 18

Charlie stood in his office, surveying the mess. Papers littered every surface, growing dusty from disuse. Folders were tossed on the floor as well as the bookshelves. Ironically, his desk was relatively neat. Papers, though covering the entire spread, were in stacks instead of great big heaps of paper. Normally, the opposite would happen. His room would be relatively spotless and his desk and the immediate area a disaster.

The blackboards that were hastily jammed in his room were covered with expressions scrawled in messy handwriting. Chicken scratch, as Don once put it. Actually, not just Don. Multiple people have commented on the contrast between such elegant expressions and careless writing. He found it more amusing than not. However, there was nothing amusing about the expressions on the blackboards.

To make a long story short, there was nothing useful about them. Yes, they did cross off possibilities, but that's all that they were doing. It was a frustratingly passive approach to the problem than Charlie preferred. Faster is always better when it comes to dealing with the NSA. Charlie had learned that quickly, unfortunately, in his experiences with consulting for the deceitful agency.

The memories pressed against his consciousness, fighting for dominance. So Charlie let them, in the privacy of his office, flood his mind.

 _They were the best. There was simply no doubt about it. Charlie and his group of nine others were top-of-the-line agents. Well, agents and consultant. They could work together in a harmony and unity that few, if any, other teams could ever achieve._

 _The Dix Amies were a tightly knit group. They could communicate without any language or in any language they wished. It was there that Charlie had learned French, Spanish, Italian, German, Hebrew, Arabic, and many more languages. French was Charlie's specialty._

 _Seven men and three women. Charlie was the youngest, but not by an outrageous amount. That didn't stop the others from treating him like a little brother. They became Charlie's family, one that was much more supportive and understanding than his biological family._

 _They were Natalia, Chris, Steve, Dean, Arthur, Sam, Olivia, Zoe, and Jayden. They had welcomed him with open arms and open minds, sticking up for him when the "veteran" agents would offend Charlie_ _or his math, most often both._

"Charlie?"

He shook himself free from remembrance. Jayden was standing in his doorway, looking hesitant and awkward. The taller man had changed out of his suit and was now wearing a casual outfit. _He could blend into a crowd without any problem._

Charlie remained silent, observing the other man as the quiet seemed to amplify. Gone was the broken man from before, seeking his forgiveness. Here stood a man resigned to his fate. He shuffled his feet, seemingly unaware of what he should do.

Physically, Jayden had changed very little during the decade they had spent apart. His face had gained a few more scars, enhancing the ruggedness and handsomeness he already possessed. The most obvious difference was his eyes. Where once was openness and honesty there was now nothing. A wall. A small pang of emotion stirred in him. The idea that Jayden's eyes changed so much and it was entirely possible that his own eyes had undergone that change flickered.

"I realize that my reaction was childish earlier. I have already asked you to put aside the past, and now I'm asking for a truce. It doesn't have to be permanent, and I understand completely. However, I cannot do my job while it is like this between us. I do not pretend to have any idealistic expectations for forgiveness. I'm asking for civility." He licked his lips nervously.

Charlie's thoughts stilled. He had been mulling over their argument for a long time, and he was surprised. The Jayden of old would have never come to him with an apology or a truce. He had never compromised.

He eyed the agent warily. It would be easier to complete the job without the added distraction of their history, but Jayden himself was a distraction. As long as they were working together, Charlie would be distracted.

Charlie nodded stiffly. "I can do that."

Jayden smiled, a sad facsimile. "I don't expect anything more." He slipped out the door, just as quickly as he had come.

Now that it was only Charlie and the work, he couldn't make his thoughts go. They were stubbornly stuck on the previous argument and the uneasy truce, unwilling to divert onto safer territory.

The ringing of his cell phone broke through his thoughts. The shrill notes were irritating; the only reason he had it was that the noise could occasionally break through his "math mode" as others had called it before. Charlie eyed the phone. He wanted nothing more than to just let it ring and ring. Though, with as many people he was working with and for, there would be a SWAT team waiting outside his office door and a lecture after that.

"Eppes."

"Charlie!" Don's voice sounded all wrong. Tight and anxious. "Charlie, I'm coming to get you. Where are you?"

"Work. Don, what's going on?" Charlie had heard this type of tone from others before. Of course, that was when they were giving him the update on his teammates… That had not been good. The only logical answer was that someone had gotten hurt.

"Colby's been shot."

Charlie gasped. "Where?"

"He's at the hospital now. I'm going to pick you up and go over there." He didn't press the question again, even though his brother did not answer it.

"I'm in my office right now. How close are you?" Notebooks and pens and papers were hastily shoved into the bag that had recently been emptied of them.

"Pulling in."

Charlie disconnected the call and raced outside. Sure enough, his brother's SUV was rolling into the parking lot. He wrenched open the door and hopped inside; the car door hadn't even closed before Don was peeling out of the lot and onto the open road.

* * *

 **I am so sorry about the late post. This was just not coming along. Also, for the rest of the school year, updates are going to be sporadic. Sorry!**


	19. Chapter 19

The hospital room was silent. No heart monitors, no random beeps, no human form sleeping on the bed. The rumpled sheets had long since cooled. All was still and empty and lifeless.

Down the hallway from the empty hospital room, three FBI agents and one math professor were loitering in various stages of pacing and sitting down. The nervous energy surrounding the small crowd was palpable. They were looking up and down the small corridor, obviously waiting for someone.

Footsteps echoed loudly and they all swiveled to look.

"Forensics is working on processing the scene. Apparently, the bomber got his materials in high up places. The quality of the explosion was too high to just be a home grown one." Don looked at his agents and rested his gaze on one. "You good, Colby?"

The bruised agent nodded. "It was only a scratch. I was lucky; David's shout had me turning and raising my arms. The bullet barely grazed my chest." He brandished his sling angrily. "This whole thing is blown out of proportion. It's not like it's a dislocated shoulder. Why do I have to wear a sling?" His argument would have been more persuasive if his tone was one of federal agent and not a petulant child.

Megan lifted an eyebrow. "You almost got blown out of existence and did get a concussion. Take the sling before Don sends you home for a week."

David laughed at that. "She's got a point."

Colby scowled. "Doesn't mean I have to like it."

Charlie smiled, though his eyes were distant. Thoughts of Jayden and Tompkins and his assignment kept crossing his mind and turning into something far darker than he wanted. Memories of hospitals from long ago were knocking on his mind, begging him to let them in. It was easier to push them away when he was surrounded with his friends. Not that they could keep the persistent taps from continuing, however.

"Let's go. Hospital says that Colby's good to go, as long as we keep an eye on his head." Don glanced around at their dreary surroundings and wrinkled his nose. "I've had enough of hospitals."

Heads nodded in agreement and they made their way to the elevator. "Don, how soon would your dad be able to make a lasagna?"

They all laughed and the mood was light for the car ride to the Eppes' residence. The FBI agents bantered good-naturedly. But the mathematician did not join in. The influx of memories trying to be recognized and remembered was growing too rapidly to be banished to the corners of his mind.

Charlie, for the second time that day, let the memories wash over him.

 _The flash of long blonde hair before blue eyes met his. She smiled at him while launching a padded fist at his face._

 _He grinned a wide grin as Charlie tried to keep up with him. He flipped through more pages in a book as Charlie struggled to read through one._

 _They sat in silence. The bunker was dark, lit only by the light of their lamps. They talked late into the night, not doing anything._

 _They walked down the hallway, her arm around his shoulders and her red hair bouncing slightly._

 _He sat with Charlie in the infirmary, waiting with him even as sickness took its toll. He distracted Charlie from the mess that his immune system was in._

 _Laughter echoed through the hallways as they walked as a team through. His eyes danced with mirth as he opened his mouth again._

 _A cocky grin was all that Charlie saw before he was racing past him, beating him by a good four seconds._

 _They sat cross-legged on the ground, trying to relax after the harrowing mission. She had been teaching him some techniques and now they were employing them to release their tension._

 _Jayden grabbed him and pulled him into a choke hold. Then he proceeded to rub his head with his knuckles. They both were smiling by the time Charlie managed to twist out of his hold._

 _The ten of them were laughing and smiling with each other during a slow day at the bunker. Olivia, Zoe, and Natalia were trying to pull the rest of them into a conversation about the best beauty products and how they could be used as weapons. Sam was curled around his newest book. No one questioned how he was able to bring in so many books. Steve and Dean were watching the perimeter, making sure they were alone. Jayden and Arthur were engaged in an arm-wrestling match, one that Jayden was bound to lose. Chris was supervising the competition to ensure that there was no large scale cheating. And he, he was soaking in the feeling of belonging. He participated half-heartedly in the girls' discussion, tried to get Sam to say which book he was reading, scanning the perimeter with Dean and Steve occasionally, and betting on the match. They were a team. One of the best._

 _That all changed. They got older—or rather, he did. He and Jayden. Their team was destroyed, their family ripped apart forever._

"What do you think, Charlie?"

Megan's casual question startled him from his thoughts. "I'm sorry, what?"

"What do you think about pizza lasagna?" Her eyes sparkled with the fun of the conversation.

Charlie frowned. _Just roll with it._ "It really depends on what goes in it. See, the differences in density and chemical make up between the ingredients of lasagna and pizza would interact with each other and require—" He let his mouth jabber on, let some math and chemistry fall out. Maybe they would leave him alone.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Chill, Whiz Kid. We just wanted your opinion." Colby was obviously fighting down a frown, as well as David and Megan.

"Oh. Well, I think it has the potential to be very good."

Megan rolled her eyes. "I told you so, Granger. Pay up."

Colby spluttered. "You weren't serious about that, were you?"

"Oh, yes I was." She held her hand out, palm face up. A five dollar bill quickly made its home on it.

Don laughed. "If you haven't learned not to bet against Megan yet, then you deserve to lose your money."

Colby began to protest against the loss of his hard-earned cash. David and Megan began to argue right back at him.

Charlie, now fully back in the present, began to feel his tension seep away. He might be remembering his old team, but the one he had right now was a darn good one.

They were his family now.

The rest of the evening passed by quickly. His father managed to create the perfect pizza lasagna for them, making two batches so everyone could have a little bit of extra to take home. Colby lost another ten dollars to Megan and five to David. The agents bid a cheery goodbye when they left.

All in all, the evening was good. Colby was alright and already back on his feet. Jayden had given him a truce. Tompkins was the only one that didn't work out.

Charlie frowned with the reminder of his job. He glanced at the clock and grabbed his laptop. The garage was going to be his new office for the night.

* * *

 **So sorry for the delay. I think updates will be every other week now.**


	20. Chapter 20

The halls of CalSci were empty. No teacher or student could be seen wandering the campus. Given that it was nearly the middle of the night that was not surprising. The only lights to be seen were the parking lights illuminating one lone bicycle.

Charlie was working in his office, having abandoned the garage for the night. His blinds were shut and his door locked. The overhead light was turned off and the only source of light was a small lamp that was on the corner of his desk.

His laptop was opened and an algorithm was filtering through the data of the FBI and NSA. The urge to do a little research on his own using the NSA information was tempting to say the least, but Charlie remembered the last time he had done that. Tompkins had almost blown a fuse. An image of his red face over the computer's camera was never going to be one that he would forget.

A small ding informed him of his seventy-two unread emails. He grimaced. His teaching job had been left by the wayside these past few days during the excitement, and he was paying the price now. He glanced at the numbers running past the screen. It would be a while before it would warrant another look. There was time for a break.

There were quite a few emails from students, a few from other teachers, and ten from Millie. They enclosed a detailed description on how the upcoming night of presentations was going to be ruined if he didn't finish his speech within the next hour and how the college was going to drown in the river of financial problems. Despite the patronizing tone of the email, Charlie laughed. No matter how angry Millie was, a sentence such as "Your intricate participation in the gala will further our patron's patronage of our mathematic branch of learning" was to be considered overkill.

He sent her a quick reply saying that he would get right on that.

(It was almost true. Depending on the other emails and how fast his computer could run the algorithm, he would get right on writing his and Larry's speeches).

Next were a couple from Amita. He grimaced. He had basically forgotten about her and Larry. She had wanted his opinion on one of her expressions for her new paper. She was writing it on how the interchangeable sequences related to their reversible counterparts. It was a stimulating topic, but it would require far more time and energy than he had right at that moment. So he groaned and sent an email back telling her that he was not going to be able to look at her math for a long time.

The rest were just promotional advertising about upcoming conventions that he would not go see. They went into the trash. There. Now his inbox was empty. Charlie could rest easy. _Easy-ish._ He still had to complete the algorithm as well as starting the two speeches and then he had to prepare to work on the CD and flash drive once he received them. He had seen other codes: enigma codes, transposition ciphers, and once even a book cipher.

If he had to wager a guess, they would be coded using steganography and something else, probably multiple 'something else's. One of the most memorable codes he had deciphered way disguised in a picture of a puppy. He never looked at German Shepherds the same away again once he discovered terrorists' plots to blow up the entire country of Britain.

Charlie glanced at his watch. Over a half an hour had passed by checking his email and the computer was still not done. He should use the supercomputer. Unfortunately, the whole lab was closed due to a technical error or maintenance or something like that. _In a school full of nerds and geeks, how is it possible that an entire lab of computers gets shut down?_

 _It doesn't…_

Charlie sat up straighter in his chair. The flyer that had been taped to the lab's door had not specified exactly what reason the lab was shut down. And one way to completely hinder a mathematician's work was to limit their use of a supercomputer.

This was adding up into a picture that he didn't like. Charlie pulled out his cell phone and tapped in Jayden's number that he remembered. He called but an automatic lady on the other end told him that the number he was trying to reach has been changed or canceled. Charlie cursed quietly. He would have to ask Jayden next time he saw him.

Don was next. Except now, all he got was a busy signal. Sighing and redialing, Charlie couldn't help the flutter of fear in his chest. He suspected that someone had infiltrated CalSci and did something to the supercomputers, and now there was a terrible fear that they were still in the building. No matter what Charlie did to try to dissuade himself from believing that, giving facts such as he hadn't seen anybody suspicious and nobody had tried to kill him yet, he couldn't shake off that awful feeling.

So he did what any sane person would do. He began to double check that all of the doors and windows to his room was locked. It was better than panicking or trying to beat the supposed attackers home via bicycle. All were locked tightly even before Charlie double checked them.

 _I remembered to that for once in my life. Don would be so proud._ He was always nagging him about forgetting to lock things. _Nothing bad has ever happened to me in LA. Yet._ Charlie snaked his arm around and cautiously knocked on wood. He wasn't overly superstitious, but he didn't want to tempt fate unnecessarily.

His computer dinged again; his algorithm was done. Charlie immediately began to scroll through the results, his brow furrowing deeper and deeper the further he went until he was frowning fiercely. He had put in more data, mainly highlighting Frank Ivering's qualities that made him an accomplice in this tangled web of lies. But the list that was being given to him was nothing like what he expected. In fact, the list just reinforced the feeling of suspicion and paranoia that he had banished to the corners of his mind.

The only names on the list belonged to Charlie's teams: the one he had right now and the one he'd had ten years ago.

* * *

 **And so the tension grows.** **Happy Mother's Day!**


	21. Chapter 21

Don sat at his desk, suppressing a groan as he rubbed his forehead. Because Colby went and got himself shot, there was a mountain of paperwork that he needed to complete: a write-up of the incident, a copy of the doctor's report, a schedule of time off for Granger, a substitute agent until Granger comes back. A legitimate mountain of stuff he had to deal with because one lousy criminal would rather die for his cause than come in quietly.

Megan leaned back in her chair, stretching. "Hey Don, I'm beat. I'm heading home." Her voice held hints of anger and frustration. At what, Don could only guess.

David copied her movements, adding a yawn of his own. "I should get going too."

He nodded. _They could all use a rest._ It was over fifteen hours since they had arrived at work that morning. None of them had been able to sleep after what happened to Colby. They came in to work to work out the anxious tension within them; the feeling of helplessness was not something that they enjoyed.

Don sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. _They could all relax._ Before he could stop himself, he asked, "Anyone want to grab a beer?" It had become something of a ritual between the four of them. After a hard case, that night just the four of them would head out to relax at a cop bar a few blocks away. Soon after that they would celebrate with Charlie. Sometimes, they just wanted to decompress with someone who knew exactly what they had been through.

"No, sorry. I got to go home." David said apologetically. He truly looked sorry; this was usually one of his favorite things to do.

Megan smiled a little. "I can go." The three of them stood and gathered their things. David left them in the parking lot to get his own car while Megan and Don left together for the bar.

It was a respectable bar, known for the amount of police that wandered in there after a hard day. Called The Scratching Post, the modern ware and contemporary feel were a definite plus. The bartenders were personable, always willing to talk or listen or stay away. The prices were reasonable—a miracle in LA, where extortion was the norm.

Their evening was passed in comfortable chatter. They sipped casually from beer bottles, savoring the flavor instead of trying to drown in it. They talked about anything and everything that was unrelated to the case, neither the one they have now nor the one they had been booted off of, the NSA agent Jayden Phillips, Charlie, Colby, bombs, or work in general. Instead, they sat and talked about sports—Don was only a little surprised that Megan loved a good soccer game. She was a federal agent and an independents woman, after all—books, movies, the best way to incapacitate a bank robber with a spoon, knife, and fork. It was fun.

The fading sunlight left entirely, abandoning them to the dangerous clutches of night. The boisterous crowd that had been occupying the bar with the two FBI agents slowly began to disperse. Table by table the bar emptied. Bottles were deposited carefully at the counter. Chairs scraped noisily against the tiled floor, pushed back from the tables. Spills and crumbs were swept up with practiced ease. Now, the only ones left in the bar were the heavy drinkers—the ones who came to forget, to drink themselves to oblivion.

That was when Don and Megan left. They grabbed their jackets and walked into the chilly night air. They were still happy and content from their banter in the bar. It had been too long since they'd done this. Don voiced his thoughts.

"You know, when was the last time we brought Charlie to this bar?" Megan's question followed his wistful statement. And with that, his good mood dimmed. Not evaporated, but dimmed.

"I don't know. Have we ever?" He shrugged his shoulders dismissively. At Megan's reproachful look, he rubbed the back of his neck tiredly. "Please, Megan. Let's keep this night fun. It is our night."

He could sense her disapproval, but she held her tongue. Suddenly the fresh air seemed to weigh him down. He just wanted to have a normal evening. What was wrong with that? He wanted a meal away from troublesome mathematicians and their secret filled past. Okay, maybe he did sound like a petulant child. Maybe his desire was selfish. But he had already been through the wringer. First they got the NSA case, then they got Phillips and the ginormous can of worms that came with him, and now they lost Granger temporarily. He wanted peace and quiet with his partner.

Megan nodded. Don briefly wondered if she had psychic powers and could tell what he was thinking. When she smiled slyly at him, he confirmed it. "What do you want to do, boss? Go dancing? Another bar? Home?"

Perhaps it was his imagination, but he heard longing when she said "home". He dismissed it as a figment of his drained mind. "We could see if there's extra lasagna at Charlie's. Sound good?"

Her grin was all the answer he needed. They walked over to the parking lot and clambered into the dark SUV. The powerful engine purred to life and they began the drive home.

Streets passed in increasing increments. _Charlie would figure out the rationality behind every change in distance, and give us a useful little analogy to boot. What is it like in his head? Do numbers just float to him? Does he just get the answers? Obviously not; we would solve our cases in no time at all._ Don frowned thoughtfully. This wasn't the first time he had questioned what was going on in his brother's head, but he had never fully thought it through. Maybe it was exhausting. Maybe it was exhilarating. Probably the latter, if Charlie's fervor for math all these years was any indication.

Don glanced over at Megan. She was leaning against the door, seemingly too tired to keep her head up anymore. She was a profiler. It was her job to think of these things. An urge to ask her opinions and thoughts rose, but he banished it. He was Charlie's sibling, not her. If he wanted to find out, he had to do it himself.

He nearly missed the turn off, and cut the corner close. A jaw cracking yawn forced him to concede how tired he was and how much stress he was under. He gently maneuvered the car onto the driveway, vaguely noting the absence of Chuck's car before thoughts of sleep and a bed pressed upon his mind. They entered the house like two battle worn soldiers coming home and slept. It wouldn't be long until their sleep was interrupted with an intruder in the garage.

* * *

 **Hello! Thank you for reading! I shall have an update next week.**


	22. Chapter 22

_Crash._

Don snapped awake from a light sleep. He was disoriented for a moment before he remembered where he was. He and Megan had spent the night at Charlie's when they were too tired to go back to their apartments after their night out. He slept on the couch and Megan had found somewhere else. He did not keep track, a little busy falling asleep.

 _Crash_.

He leapt to his feet, surefooted even in the dark. There was not a clock visible to him, but it couldn't have been more than four o'clock in the morning. The sun was not shining happily through the curtains, the birds were not chirping with glee, and the garage was not still and silent. His day was ruined already. The least the mysterious intruder could do was have a cup of coffee ready.

Don padded quietly to the back door, the weight of his gun reassuring in his grip. Megan slid down the stairs after him. She smiled slightly at him as her finger curled around the trigger of her service weapon. He nodded at her and she turned the handle. The door opened, what little light that spilled through the doorway revealed nothing. No giant man in black clothes. They stepped out into the back yard. The door stayed propped open, creating elongated silhouettes that blurred at the edges.

Their footsteps were silent, but still no sound of the perpetrator reached them. Nothing beside the two agents and their hearing to even give an indication of something wrong. Don couldn't help the growing sensation of foreboding. If Megan wasn't there, he would have dismissed the noise as a neighborhood cat trying to climb someone's cans and failing. No, he wouldn't have. He would still be here in the chill of the morning air, on edge from the secret NSA history that Charlie had been forced to reveal. It couldn't be coincidence, could it?

Megan nodded to him. Her green eyes were wide with adrenaline and lack of sleep. He didn't look much better. He reached out a hand to pull open the door when it was flung wide open. The unexpected push shoved Don to the grass. The intruder stumbled at the sudden weight stopping his motion. Megan was the only one who reacted. She leaped from her crouch and tackled the man who recovered from his surprised and twisted like a snake in her hold. Don threw himself over the man's nicely clad legs. _Wait._ Thieves don't usually dress up fancy to hit a house. There was an ankle holster on the right leg. Standard issue for most law enforcement. The man continued to fight the both of them without a weapon. There was not a knife or gun in his hand.

This was all adding up to a certain NSA agent that was not high on the list of people Don wanted to see.

"Phillips?"

It was Jayden Phillips caught underneath both Megan and Don. He wasn't wearing a mask or making an attempt to hide his identity. He was still wearing a suit! The man stilled, realizing who his attackers were.

"Eppes! Reeves! I didn't know you were here."

"What the hell are you doing in the garage at four o'clock in the morning?" Don slid off of the man's knees, none too gently. Megan did the same, "accidentally" slipping an elbow into his stomach. Phillips gingerly picked himself up, wisely making no comment about the rough handling. The three of them were kneeling in an odd triangle, each too tired and surprised to think of moving elsewhere. "How the hell would you know we weren't here?"

Phillips completely ignored the second question. "I was looking for Charlie." Jayden looked down at his hands that were clasped loosely in his lap. The innocent little boy persona was radiating strongly from him. _Completely calculated._ "I received an email from him asking me to meet him. I figured he meant the garage. That's where he usually is when he's working."

"Usually." Don supposed that there should not be anything that surprised him anymore. Not only did his little brother have a past with a dangerous and secretive organization, but he had done so at home. At the home where they both grew up in. It unsettled Don. Somehow, the fact that Charlie's work had been done in his childhood house was disturbing. He had brought his work to the house, but Chuck and Dad knew about it. Mostly. But they knew the main points of his career. Mostly. The censured version.

The little voice inside his head reared its head. _Seems like Chuck did that too._ He squished the thoughts that the snide comment brought up. A convenient distraction was provided when Phillips rolled to his feet. "If he's not here, then where would he be?" The commanding NSA agent was back. Don idly wondered if that was every agents' default defense.

The FBI agents rose to their feet as well. "Why does Charlie want to see you?" Megan shot a sideways, distrustful look at Phillips. Like Don, she was unsure of the honesty behind the reason for the nighttime visit but unwilling to let him get off easily.

"I don't know." Jayden clenched his jaw, biting off any other confessions that might follow. "Is he in his office?" He began to stride around the house, no doubt heading for his car. Megan and Don shared one more look, this time debating whether to stop him, let him go, or go with him.

"I don't have anything better to do tonight." Megan looked up at the sky. "Scratch that. This morning." She shrugged. "I'd like to be awake to see the sunrise. Might as well see it in Charlie's office." And with that, they made their way across the lawn. They had a certain mathematician they needed to save from the clutches of a manipulating NSA agent. Or, they would. If they had a car.

"Don, you did remember to bring home the car from the bar yesterday. Right?"

Megan and Don looked dumbly at the empty driveway that had housed a car earlier that morning. Don began to curse as Megan called Colby and David. _This morning was going to be a damn fine morning indeed_.

* * *

 **Sorry for the delay. Thank you for every one who commented and favorited!**

 **I have an important announcement: I am thinking about changing the title of this story. It does not fit quite right for this anymore. Please let me know your thoughts or your ideas for a new title.**


	23. Chapter 23

Thirteen faces were printed out and pinned to a board. Thirteen faces detailing the thirteen men and women that Charlie has worked with. Nine of which he had not seen in a decade, and four he worked with daily. To say that this had blindsided him was a severe understatement. Seeing their faces so obviously displayed was shocking.

He didn't believe for a second that any of the thirteen people were guilty. Every single one was involved with law enforcement and several with faith. The odds of even one of them being on the list was astronomical, let alone all thirteen. It was simply impossible. It was obvious to see that there was someone messing with him and his computer. That was a little alarming to say the least. Before he shut down the laptop, he sent an email to Jayden. Nothing that would suggest that he caught on to the hackers, but that would bring Jayden here. He didn't know who was hacking his computer or to what extent, but he did know about computers. You couldn't hack a computer shut all the way off. He knew that from experience.

He closed the laptop. It was hard to get rid of the mental image of another man watching him through the webcam. Charlie leaned back in his chair, propping his feet on the table carefully between two messy stacks of papers. They were reminders of all the things he had postponed in order to work on the far more interesting case. _Look where that got you._ Piles of paper and books and notes. He still had two speeches to write and was nowhere on them. Milly's vague threats and supercilious sentences hung in the air. Perhaps he should get to work on them, but the lack of spell check deterred him. It wasn't as if he was never going to get another chance to work on the tedious and boring work.

A glance at the clock told him it was almost four in the morning. He'd been contemplating writing the speeches for over half an hour. It had been almost forty minutes since he emailed Jayden.

The man never slept when Charlie knew him. No matter what time Charlie had stayed up to obsessing over their new target, Jayden's hands were pulling his off the chalk or laptop. Jayden put the cup of coffee next to him at a safe distance. Of course, the others joined in as well. Olivia snuck in donuts for him once. He was still unsure of how she did that, but her beautiful blonde hair might have had something to do with that, as well as her flirty tendencies. Dean and Steve also tried to smuggle in treats for their team. Mints, fruits, and once a dog. That was perhaps one of the most memorable instances.

He smiled when he remembered Chris's reaction.

" _What the bloody hell is that mangy mutt doing on my bed?" Steve and Dean shared a smirk._

" _What do you think? She's sleeping!" Charlie looked at the filthy animal on the bunk. He could barely tell that it was a dog, let alone what gender. Chris opened his mouth to yell at the smirking men when the dog stretched and, upon deciding that she didn't like the cot, let loose her bladder._

 _Steve and Dean doubled over laughing. Chris was stunned into silence, mouth hanging open slightly. Charlie stood there, shocked. A sharp smell hit them; Steve and Dean began to laugh even harder, unsuccessfully hiding snorts and grunts. Dean clutched to the side of his bed, laughing too much._

 _The dog daintily stepped off of the soiled bunk. She wagged her tail slowly, as if proud of her actions, tongue lolling out in a happy grin. Chris stared at her in disbelief while Steve and Dean roared with laughter. Charlie watched him worriedly, unsure of how Chris would react when he finally got around to it._

 _Chris hadn't started yelling. Instead, he tackled the both of them. They went down and started an impromptu wrestling match. The rest of the team were drawn to the room because of all the noise they were making. Every single one of them jumped in eagerly. The whole debacle devolved into a large group pile._

Charlie smiled in remembrance. That was one of the best moments of his life. The whole time with his old team was the best thing to ever happen to him. There's something about putting your life in danger to save you country together that bonds people together. _Maybe that's what's lacking about Don's team._ There was no denying the fact that Don's team and he were close. _We haven't risked our lives together. Sure, we save people. But that's nowhere near the adrenaline rush as stopping a war._ However, as close as they were, the Dix Amies was a family, not friends.

He sighed and rubbed his forehead. Comparison never lead to happiness. His old team was half a world and a decade ago, while this team was here and now. He had to remain objective if he wanted to solve this case with minimum casualties. But as the somber faces of his friends stared down at him, it was hard to keep that in mind.

A knock at the door interrupted his musings. "Charlie?" Jayden's voice was muffled through the door. The handle jiggled a little. "Charlie, open up."

Charlie crossed the room to unlock the door and swung it open. Jayden stood with his hands in his pockets and a worried frown on his face. "Hey Jayden." He stepped back and Jayden entered his office.

The agent casually leaned on his desk. His dark suit was impeccable as always, even at the middle of the night. "What's up?" His calm brown eyes scanned the perimeter though his face was turned towards Charlie. "You have a break through?" He finally rested his eyes on Charlie's face. Now the calculating stare was completely focused on him. It was a little disconcerting.

"No, no." Charlie bit his lip. A sense of doubt crept into his mind. It had been almost ten years since he had worked for the NSA, and some of the things that had been so sharp back then had dulled. Perhaps he just imagined the connection between the supercomputers going out when he needed to use it. Because that would be an awfully convenient coincidence.

"Spill." Jayden had straightened, his worry carefully buried.

Charlie told him his suspicions about the lab shutting down right when he needed it. He told Jayden about how the flyer hadn't had any specific reasons for why the lab was shut down. Jayden listened to it without changing expression: stoic with a hint of concern. Charlie had forgotten how irritatingly peaceful and put together Phillips was when everyone else would panic. Back then, though, the stoic face would always have a streak of worry and caring through it.

When he was finished, Jayden merely nodded and stood to leave. "You should go home, Charlie." He wordlessly nodded his head. It would do no good to disagree; Jayden was the most stubborn person Charlie knew.

Perhaps he was too hard on Jayden. The man clearly was showing remorse. _He's been trained to do that. Did you see remorse ten years ago?_ Charlie could not argue with that. His thoughts were interrupted yet again by the presence of several agents and a crime scene photographer at the front of his house. Charlie only sighed and headed to his bedroom. The past few days with little to no substance or sleep were catching up with him and all he wanted to do was collapse on his bed and not think about the dilemma of trusting Jayden again or what could possibly be on the disk and drive that was so important or the sinking suspicion that his life was going to be completely turned upside down. And that's what he did.

* * *

 **Well, hello again. Sorry for the delay, so here's the next chapter.**

 **Please think about a new title. This one doesn't fit any more. Let me know what you think.**


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